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THE 

BRIDGE 

Am/ Other Toems 



THE 

BRIDGE 

And Other Toems 

By 
Dorothy Landers Beall 




New York. 

Mitchell Kennerley 

TuhlishcT' 

1913 



COPYRIGHT 1913 BY MITCHELL KENNERLEY 






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©CI,A361222 



THE BRIDGE 

(TO MARY B, WILKIE) 





CONTENTS 


PAGE 




THE BRIDGE 


13 




THE MIRROR 


135 




JONATHAN AND DAVID 


159 




BERTRAND TO TIPHAINE 


207 




MOON-MAGIC 


209 




BY A LOCH-SIDE 


212 


r 


VISION 


213 


t 


DUALITY 


217 




PRAYER— FOR ALL BOYS 


218 



THE BRIDGE AND 
OTHER POEMS 



CHARACTERS 

Robert Cameron, a Bridge-Builder. 

Hilda, engaged to him — a Settlement Worker. 

LuciEN Landis, a Steel Magnate and Social 

Theorist. 
Lanvale, a Friend of Robert Cameron's and 

Foreman of his Bridge. 
Nancy, his wife. 
Simon, their little crippled boy. 
A Boy, Caisson-Worker on Robert's Bridge. 
The Spirit of the Bridge. 



THE BRIDGE 
ACT I 

Scene I 

The Long Bridge over the river. In the 
background are dimly perceived the tall buildings 
of the cities on each bank. During the Act, 
morning brightens behind the towers and chim- 
neys and a pale gray mist slowly lifts. The city 
wakes — noises of traffic are heard louder and 
clearer — girls pass on the way to work. Barges 
glide by in the river drawn by puffing tug-boats — 
ferries swarm and whistle shrilly — the crowd 
grows denser and blacker. Now and then a 
workman crossing the Long Bridge stops to look 
at something of great interest farther up stream. 

Enter Hilda, a dark, resolute figure against the 
bright sky. She comes eagerly across the bridge 
and stops, leaning her elbows on the railing. 

[13] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

The morning pressed in rudely on my eyes 
And burned away my sleep — and so I rose — 
And here I linger like a dreaming girl 
To meet a laggard lover! 

\^She turns to the mist-covered city. As she 
talks, it takes on the hue of life. Great 
chimneys emerge from the clouds. Fac- 
tories begin to belch smoke. The thousand 
windows of the city glitter in the morning 
sun. 
Hilda. 

City, stir! 
Put off the little lingering, haggard sleep 
That closes thy vast eyelids toward the dawn ! 
Wake! Fling thine arms to traffic! Open 

wide 
To work the ample chambers of thy life! 
Come up, pale little children! It is Day! 
Wake, Master-Workers, there is work to do ! 
O mothers, mothers, rend the weary web 
Sleep spun ye ! Bear your burdens. It is 
Day! 

[14] 



THE BRIDGE 

Ye glad white maidens, Dawn has paced all 

night 
Behind the hills of darkness! Lambent stars 
Have watched, slow-swinging, to foretell his 

march. 
Now, his swift feet make music. He Is come, 
Is here, is strong as life against your souls, 
The Lover of the Universe, the Dawn ! 
Go meet him, maidens! Take his tender gold, 
His half-concealed and delicate fair rose. 
His many terrible gifts, his light, his truth! 
Gather him to the arms he craves ! Awake ! 

[Turning to the other and richer city. 
And ye, proud dwellers In the loftiness 
Of ease and greater life and richer gifts, 
Wake ! Let your souls wake with you ! Turn 

ye, turn 
To these gray shadows on the flushing sky 
That creep to labor while ye lie at peace — 
Lean out and leave the towers of delight. 
Look down and see the brother-multitude. 
The children, the dumb mothers, the drear 

wives 

[15] 



THE BRIDGE 

Who speed them ! See how pale and bent they 

are 
But how their labor glorifies them! Rise, 
Meet them as brothers! March beside them! 

Span 
The distance with your thought — not pity, 

nay 
Nor high disdainful alms from shrinking hands, 
Nor plentiful-flung gold — not these, I say, 
But reverence for the power that is theirs 
And understanding and warm sympathy. 
Then v/orkers will be great enough to give 
Their inspiration, and you, leisure-ward 
Will learn to work and glory in all work! 
[A hand of artisans pass, tools on shoulders. 
First Artisan. [To hoy, shouldering along he- 
side hinil 
Where do you go, boy? 
Young Artisan. 

To the caisson-work 
On the new bridge. 
First Artisan. 

God help you ! 

[i6] 



THE BRIDGE 

Boy. 

Is It bad? 

First Artisan. 

Men work like that In hell, I'll swear, league- 
deep 
Under the heavy water, choked for air, 
Fighting a rushing river, making way 
Patient as moles across the shifty bed, 
While the huge caisson settles down and down 
Cutting Its way! The heat is like red flame, 
The air Is doled out In a pittance. Words 
Come down to you like stones thrown in a well, 
While you go shovelling and tolling on. 
What for? To make a Bridge for other men. 
And die maybe ! O I have been there, too, 
I was a ' sand-hog ' I Years, ago, / pushed 
And snouted hog-like In the river-bed! 

The Boy. [Paling a little'] 

I must have work. This is the last — and I 
Am very strong and willing. I have heard 
The builder is as straight as you could want. 
I like to work for men who do good work. 
\_The men hurry on. The Boy falls a little 

[17] 



THE BRIDGE 

behind in the crush, Hilda beckons him 
aside. 
Hilda. [Meaningly'] 

There must be men to build foundations ! Sink 
Your caisson — Inch or two in darkness! 

Then, 
When the great rails have met across the 

stream 
Like clasping comrade hands, you will be glad 
To say, ' The towers stand because of me. 
I worked where no man had the strength to 
work! ' 
Boy. [Wondering, struck by her strange fervor] 

How do you know, you, woman? 
Hilda. [Earnest] 

Ah, / know. 
Because I am a woman, I can't love 
The work you do? Ah, there you're blind! I 

know 
Just how the darkness snares you — how the 

cold 
Bites — how the air goes singing, rushing by 
You, high swung like the smallest iron wedge 

[i8] 



THE BRIDGE 

Inanimate above the river! I, 

Clenching my hands and breathing in hard 

breaths 
Of the fine cutting air have longed to do 
Your hardest work — to grope in caisson-mud, 
To feel the air die down and leave my lungs 
A squeezed hard sponge — to drive the small- 
est nail, 
To rivet — O the joy of it — up there! 
So free, so fearless — in the open wind 
So near the sky — How can you wait and weigh 
And question — go and work ! Go love your 

bridge ! 
If I might work too! It's all good — all good ! 

The Boy. \_As one seeing sudden light'] 

Why so it is 1 You think so ? Then I'm sure ! 
I'm for the caisson — \^He goes off] 

Hilda. \_Gladly] 

Then — good work to you ! 

[Lucien Landis comes along the Bridge. 
He is evidently there for an appointment. 
Strolls hy, opening a cigarette case with thin, 
brown fingers, and ogling passing shop girls 

[19] 



THE BRIDGE 

with a pair of prominent bright brown eyes. 
He stops once and looks down the river at 
the works for the new bridge with a glance 
of such utter malignity that Hilda shudders. 
Then, watching him stroll down to the end 
of the bridge, where he leans until end of 
act, she says: 
Hilda. 

Snakewlse he creeps. The air Is full of sin 
And, stench. I never brushed a reptile thing 
In all my life of touch with villainy 
So utterly and vilely loathsome. God 
Cannot have made that lecherous bright look, 
Those little eager hands, that skulking walk 
Except to show us how hell-hideous 
A human thing gone foul and rotten-souled 
Can be. — [Watching him narrowly'] He hates 

the Bridge. — He hates all building 
With the world-hatred of the theorist — 
The Mind Destructive for Constructive Work, 
For actual things done well! O noxious, 

vile — 
Thank God he only passed me and went on ! 
{Lucien looks down at Hilda, meets her 
[20] 



THE BRIDGE 

look of disgust — and tries to ogle her with 
his hold, bulging eyes. — She turns hack to the 
river in evident relief, 

[Another group of men come over the 
bridge — they stop a moment, look up stream 
and talk together. Hilda listens eagerly. 

First Man. [Nodding in direction of Bridge 
up-stream] 
A bold young dreamer building there — a boy 
With the strange force of certainty. 

Second Man. [A little sceptically'] 

He'd best 
Strengthen his steel and keep his weight in 

hand. 
Those cantilevers cannot span a stream 
Like these strong swung suspensions ! 

Were you here 
When that old builder spun these slender lines, 
These shining silver cables into space 
To bear the very roadway that we tread! 
Ah the great sturdy builder that he was. 
We mocked, ' Can cobwebs bear an army? ' 
He 

[21] 



THE BRIDGE 

Spun on and let us laugh ! Free, high and fine 
With marvellous flexile steel that bent and 

swayed, 
Graceful as flower-tendrils ! All amazed 
We saw it grow and swing! The sheaves at 

play 
Winding the terrible wire round and round 
Were like old curious spiders spinning, making, 
Weaving and working on relentlessly. 
Crouched darkly thro' the silence at their looms, 
Then darting out swift thro' the quiet air — 
At last the web was finished — and we walk 
Firm on those tiny tendrils spun in air! 
Was it well done? 
First Man. [With a gesture toward new 

bridge^ 

We must not scoff at him 
Till his planned cantilevers reach and join 
And span the distance ! 
Second Man. 

If his steel is good 
He'll carry out this bold imagined work, 
But if it falls — how the great crash of it 
Will thunder everywhere! 

[22] 



THE BRIDGE 

First Man. 

Brave boy I say. 
\^They pass on, still looking down the river. 
Barges begin to glide under the bridge, car- 
rying tools, workmen, steel, cranes, derricks, 
etc. Hilda turns to the awakening cities 
and dreams again, head in her hands, arms 
on railing. Behind her the rush goes on. 
The noise of the city rises clearer and clearer. 
Laborers, women and children pass con- 
stantly. 
Hilda. 

Sing, spinning woman-city, sing and weave 
On your huge loom the myriad sheenful cloth 
Of labor, change and sorrow, weave and show 
In your great arabesque of life and deeds 
The words of this strange hurtling world of us ! 
See, how the texture lies around her feet 
In ships and wharves and men — in traffic — 

coils 
Of steel and rope — In the strange broidery 
Of human faces and strong human hearts 
And curiously patterned souls. Spin, City! 
Spin, I can hear the hum your treadle makes! 

[23] 



THE BRIDGE 

I can hear how the fibre strains and grows 
Beneath your giant-fingers, I can catch 
The voices of the little laboring threads 
All singing, singing, singing in the Sun — 
All shouting — ^ We are born of a great God, 
The City! ' O the texture is as fine 
As any fabled broidery of east! 
Spin, Mother, spin and sing! The centuries 
Spin with you ! 

[Turns from one city to the other. 
Sister cities, rival women 
In soul-war, at your feet the river flings 
A chain whereof each link's a changing drop, 
A shifting and impassable barrier! 
Lean over, from your spinning, sister-cities, 
Touch your great pulsing fingers, lean and read 
In your wide eyes, how true is sisterhood 
And how your looms must make the same gold 

cloth 
Whether the threads be all alike or no ! 

[Her gaze grows deeper and more intense. 
She seems to peer into the very lives of the 
people below. 

[24] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

I wonder what poor women at the morning 

Are waiting at their windows, what slow lovers 

Linger like mine. O we who love wait longest. 

Take that for pity and for comfort — learn 

To garner In the little tender acts, 

The prodigal kisses for an afterward 

When ye must wait forever. But the wonder, 

The Inspiration and the flight Is ours 

Who love and wait. — If all the weary women 

Rose strong to break the bonds that Irk their 

souls 
And went forth singing to an equal battle — 
There would be truce to waiting, after all — 
And yet — our strength Is love — and love our 

shame — 
Freed of all bonds external, are we free 
Of passion, that with god-like fingers touches 
The hidden gold beneath our souls and draws 
Strange lustre from us ! O my waiting sisters. 
We wait because we love ! And the great mo- 
ment 
When we lean low to catch that coming foot-fall 
That beats mysteriously like a heart 

[25] 



THE BRIDGE 

Discerning it among a thousand others, 
Musing upon it — O that dawn-like moment 
When the steps beat in strong as ocean-music 
And rise and thunder at our very souls. 
O the dear time when the awaited lover 
Catches us to his breast and, sure of welcome 
With a man's arrogant surety, proclaims us 
Beautiful queen, soul's dearest — that rare mo- 
ment 
Is like the glorious Issue out of prison. 
When, free and wild and cleansed by the pure 

sunlight. 
We do forget the weary hours behind ! 

[A barge stops under the bridge, a man dis- 
embarks and begins to climb the revetment. 
Hilda leans out watching him intently. Her 
whole face changes as he comes up. She 
laughs aloud — ' O we forget the weary 
hours behind.' The man, Robert Cameron^ 
has gained the roadway of the bridge. He 
comes thro' the morning-crowd, carrying his 
head proudly. Comes straight to Hilda — 
catches her hand. There is a moment of 

[26] 



THE BRIDGE 

breathless silence as they stand facing each 
other. 
Robert. 

Mine ! — from the exquisite quick soul of you 
To the impatient murmuring woman-want 
That chafes at my delay! 
Hilda. \^Proudly^ 

Why do you think 
I wait for you and * chafe at your delay '? 
Robert. [Smiling quietly] 

I saw a little tense white hand creep out 
Along the rail and grip the steel support 
Like a sweet flower vitalized! I saw 
A frenzy in the movement, the revolt 
That waiting only teaches ! O it seemed 
That you would shake this mighty span and 

tear 
The cables like silk threads ! And when I came 
I saw a vivid morning-crested wave 
Flood up, flood up across your face and drown 
The strong vexation ! 
Hilda. [Shuddering] 

O you are so sure ! 
You know me, O, so pitiably well ! 

[27] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. 

I know you like the bridge that I have built 
Over and over in my brain so long ! — 

Hilda. [Breaking in impetuously] 

Till there is room for nothing in the world 
But mighty steel and girders and great beams. 
You do not love me, Robert — [bitterly] which 

is dearer, 
The bridge and the deep caissons and the men 
And that prospective life-supporting span. 
That sturdy cantilever — or one girl. 
One little dreaming woman? Which I say? 

Robert. [Laughing and ardent] 

All — perfect steel and curious enginery, 
All the keen pleasure in my work is nothing 
To one quick hesitant kiss in your white hand. 
The petal-fingers closing round my face 
Surely and virginally! 

Hilda. 

I'll believe it 
Since disbelief is pain and loneliness. 

Robert. 

The nights are long without you and the days 

[28] 



THE BRIDGE 

Unfinished when you do not come! I crave 
The kindhng fire of your startled mind 
And the fierce impetus to be — to work, 
To dream — that somehow stirs in me from 

you 
And dies behind my spirit when you go — 
[Seeing no yielding — no tenderness in her 
face, he says masterfully — compelling her to 
look at him: 
Look, Hilda ! — Do I love you ? 
Hilda. [Frightened, shrinking back] 

Yes, you love me. 
[He takes her face between his hands and 
looks down into the wounded soul. 
Robert. [Tenderly] 

What is it? Have the women failed again? 
Or can't you hold the children? Are you ill — 
Or lonely? Tell me, dearest! 
Hilda. 

No — I cannot! 
[Proudly] The Bridge is waiting for you! 

You're too glad 
At this superb commencement of your work 

[29 1 



THE BRIDGE 

To let my feeble claims break In on you 
And spoil the music! [Turning away~\ 
Robert. [Concerned and disregarding her petu- 
lance'] 

Hilda, Hilda, pain 
Quivers around your sensitive straight lips 
And draws the line awry. — 

My little love. 
My little lonely woman — 
Hilda. [Drawing away] 

No — no pity ! 
Robert. 

O laugh a little, Hilda! Life's not tears, 
Utterly tears ! Life's laughter somewhat, too ! 
All lies before us — what a world to love 
And build In ! Come, look up ! What — cry- 
ing, Hilda! 
Hilda. 

You give me tears! 
Robert. 



I — Hilda? 



Hilda. 



Yes — you, Robert! 
I see a spanning shadow, growing, soaring, 

[30] 



THE BRIDGE 

Reaching across your life — no sun — no love, 
Only a black wide shadow. 
Robert. 

This Is folly ! 
Hilda. 

O no — O no — It's like a bridge, my Robert, 
An Iron bridge — so heavy and so strong! 
It grows, It arches! There's no room for me! 
Robert. {^Tenderly touched by this new proof 
of love for him~\ 
My work Is built on you ! How can the bridge 
Crowd out my love? 
Hilda. [Drawing nearer to him'] 

I am afraid — afraid! 
Robert. 

Dear Hilda, trust me, when I say all good 
Comes of you, meets you, grows from you to me 
Like a transforming, mutual golden flame ! 
Hilda. [Eager to believe] 
You never told me lies — 
[Shaking off her sadness] Why am I sad? 
No! that's all folly — I am happy — 
happy ! 

[31] 



THE BRIDGE 

I am like a free creature who has crept 
At last, Into the sunshine of release! 
I am a worker — like these others here, 
Like you, like the great cities at our feet! 

I am free ! — of century prejudice. 
Free of the clogging silly pettiness 

That bound my sisters ! I am air — am wind, 
Can do my will untrammeled — I am free ! 
Robert. [Amused and wishing to call her hack 
to him~\ 
And love? 

[A flame-change sweeps over Hilda. She 
sinks down from the upper regions of her 
fancy. 
Hilda. [Bitterly] 

Ah no — I am not free at all ! 

1 wait for you. I yearn to hear your step 
Across the emptiness. I catch your voice 
Among a thousand voices, very clear 

And potent, strong as you. O terrible soul, 
I feel the dominant sureness of your touch, 
I feel that you possess me, soul and mind 
And feeble bird-like heart! I am not free! 

[32] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. 

My Hilda! Then you yearn and leap to me 

Like a warm beautiful flame ! Ah, you con- 
sume 

Away my littleness and make me great 

And urge me to achievement! but the flame 

\^A little wistfully. 

Hungers for forests — yes, whole waving for- 
ests 

To burn away. — Is it not so, dear Hilda — 

I do not satisfy you? 

Hilda. 

There — there's truth, 
You do not satisfy me! 

Robert. 

Now, thank God, 
You never give me anything but hope 
And courage and fulfilment ! 

Hilda. [Contrite] 

Shame — ah shame — 
I am a feeble thing — to fill your soul 
With doubt ! 

[33] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. [Sure of himself^ 

You cannot fill my soul with doubt 
For / believe my dream! 
Hilda. 

I do despise 
My sins, my failure — and go sinning on 
With strange persistency! I would be free 
And yet, I love my slavery ! 
Robert. 

Dear slave. 
Hilda. 

Hush — hush ! You are so strong, so sure of 

me! 
I am afraid of the strange secret power 
That makes me love you! I have dreams for 

you 
And promise me you will believe my dream! 
Robert. \_Meeting her mood'] 

I promise, sorceress! 
Hilda. 

I saw a bridge. 
Go spanning, arching thro' the silver air! 
Vast were its piles and delicate its web 

[34] 



THE BRIDGE 

And somehow all my vision held it there 
Like a great shining rainbow ! In the night 
Below it, men were struggling. Myriads 
Of striving women took an equal load 
Beside them ! Under the broad roadway, ran 
A living, leaping river. Foam sprang high 
In the pure sunlight. Ships swept by (high 

masts 
Black in the morning) , smoke and toil and 

noise 
Of the great wheels of thought and industry 
Smote on my soul. Gaunt towers rose like 

peaks 
And ranges of white buildings half-emerged 
From a deep silent mist — and then were lost. 
In that wide shadowy haze men sang and 

sobbed 
And cursed — and little children laughed — 

none slept. 
I knew then that it was a city. Strange, 
On this side, only prosperous and great. 
The kindly grain lay heaped upon the shores, 
Where black hulls swallowed it. Rich mer- 
chandise 

[35] 



THE BRIDGE 

Came and went sailing outward. Over all 
The high white bridge arched, flawless and se- 
rene 
On this side, joy — on that pale swarming 

brats 
Reeked in the gutters. Slatterns lolled at ease, 
Inviting lewdness. Thieves and beggars turned 
Dull eyes upon the sun — all poor and mean 
And filthy. The old houses shivered, too, 
And trembled on their footing — O, despair 
Winked blear eyes at the windows. Robert, 

Robert, 
How horrible! Then, sudden in my dream 
I lifted, as for shuddering relief 
My heart, in weeping eyes to the high bridge — 
Then the calm span took on significance — 
Not perfect line and strong abutment-stones, 
Not willing girder and sure brace — not 

beams 
Of gleaming steel that no fierce wind can break, 
Not the superb, strong, well-built bridge alone. 
But more — a way to link two cities, pride 
With anguish — luxury with agony, 
Beauty with squalor! O, the distance shrank, 

[36] 



THE BRIDGE 

The mist cleared off, the buildings gleamed and 

shone, 
The river leaped on bravely — and the bridge. 
Like a pure dominating presence, bound 
It all — and made a way for men to meet I 
Then — the wide footway opened — the long 

span 
Lengthened and sped away before my eyes. 
Away, away! There was no end at all 
And I awoke ! Ah, that will be your bridge ; 
Yes, that must be your bridge ! 

Robert. [^Solemnly as tho' taking an oath'] 

It will be, dear. 
I swear to build it firm and strong and straight ! 

Hilda. 

Swear that you won't forget me In the build- 
ing! 
O even In my dream, I was afraid — 
Afraid and jealous of this wonder-bridge 
That, being so much greater than I am, 
Will draw you in and make you love it! 

Swear, 
Swear to me, now, my lover — swear to build 

[37] 



THE BRIDGE 

Me in the beams, me in the footway, me, 

Me, me eternally! You swear? 
Robert. 

My Hilda, 

How can you be so doubtful — and of mef 
Hilda. 

I doubt forever, doubt eternally! 

I'm never sure! How can I follow you? 

O, Robert, swear to love me first and then 

The Bridge ! 
Robert. 

I swear to love you both together — 

My work, my love, two deathless sisters. 
Hilda. [Jealously^ 

No, 

You said ' work ' first. [^Dreaming] 

But I can understand 

The joy of building — the great actual work! 
Robert. 

You feel it too ? I cannot say it all ! 

But if you know it — that fine grasp of things 

That joy to make a thought and see the plan 

Grow to a tangible something! Ah, it's good! 

[38] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

You want to be there now — well, take your 

work 
And leave me here to dream — 
Robert. 

And hate my bridge? 
Never! Ah, if you hate it wrong will come 
And failure. — Love it into beauty, Hilda 1 
[Silence. — In the shifting crowds Hilda 
suddenly sees the man who passed before — 
watches him intently. 
Robert. [PFatching her lovingly~\ 

Why are you trembling? 
Hilda. [Quickly] 

Look along the bridge. 
Robert. 

Yes! 
Hilda. 

Do you see a little skulking man 
With thin brown fingers and bright wicked 

eyes — 
Fingering something silver — watching — 

watching? 
What is that man? 

[39] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. \_Surprised at her vehemence and 
wanting to laugh it of] 

Why, Hilda, can I know 
All the thin, skulking men that creep and wind 
About these cities? Stay, I know him tho'. 
But where — and — yes, I've seen that narrow 

mouth. 
Sensual-lipped — I've heard that eloquent 

tongue. 
He's one of your own flock — a Socialist, 
A talker, leads a faction in our men, 
Stirs up continual cupidity, 
Wants new things, has a fierce respect for life, 
Burns for equality, dreams brotherhood, 
Prates loud of social consciousness, and rides 
Regally down the avenue — lives well 
Across the Park — a theorist, a fool ! 
Hilda. 

A dangerous, horrible creature — there, you see 
He's meeting Lanvale — that's your foreman? 
Robert. [Keenly] 

Yes — 
My foreman and my friend! 

[40] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

Remember It — 
I was glad when he passed me and went on — 
Somehow I hate his dingy, twisted face. — 
He has no place here near us In the sun — 
O creeping, laughing, sin-polluted thing! 
Robert. [Mocking her] 

Vendetta ! Knife him dangerously — stop 
His prate of strikes and wages — I'll be glad! 
l^They both laugh. From the distance a 
large black shape emerges, towed by a pant- 
ing little tug. As it grows nearer it takes 
the outlines of a large circular float, covered 
with men, derricks, cranes, etc. Robert's 
face lights, he leans out proudly, watching 
eagerly. 
Robert. 

Our caisson, Hilda ! 
Hilda. \^Jealous of his interest — but eager to 
know all about itl 

That Is where men work! 
Robert. [^Imitating her tone] 

That, sunk below the river, foot by foot 
Like a great bell with knifing edges ! 

[ 41 ] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [Hating it] 

No, 
Like a great eager monster with cold hands 
That grip and suffocate ! 
Robert. [Enthusiastic, not seeming to notice 
her strong dislike] 

Down, down it goes, 
Sinking beneath the moving water — down 
Thro' the great river-rooms where life is still 
As a dead world, where air is pressed and flat. 
Where hearts burn dangerously like white flame. 
This is the first great moment. If it sink 
Too fast, if the strong cutting edges catch 
Some rocky-seeming substance that with flow 
And ebb melts into shifting porous sand. 
Later, the superstructure slips and wavers 
And falls to blinding ruin. 
Hilda. [Thinking of the hoy she sent to the 
caisson] 

But the men 
Know all these dangers — understand the risk? 
Accept this hell — Imprisonment? 

[42] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. 

Brave fellows, 
They know how much the caisson is the foot, 
The giant-planted foot that holds the bridge 
Or yields it up to failure. [Breaking off] I 

must go 
And stir it all to action. 

Hilda. 

They are cheering ! 
Hear them ! 
Robert. 

The workmen ! I have never had 
Fellows as full of courage and delight 
In a new work ! 
Hilda. 

O if I were a man. 
How I would work with you — in the deep 

stream, 
Crazily high upon the false-work — swung 
Out on a dizzy beam against the sky 
Or burrowing blindly in the river-bed. 
/ would not question — I'd not hesitate; 
Never lean down to listen to my heart's 

[ 43 ] 



THE BRIDGE 

Unsteady agony — O no! I'd love 

The wind that nearly shook me from my 

height, 
The air that nearly stopped my gasping 

throat — 
I would be working, doing, building something 
With you — 

There, actually beside you, dear — 
I could not fear and hate these many things, 
These many waiting loves that want you — no, 
Possessing you in every moving thought 
I'd laugh at sorrow — I'd not hate the bridge. 
That great absorbing, jealous work of yours — 
O I could fight her, working there with you. 
With you ! 
Robert. \_Sure'\ 

So we will build our lives together, 
And you shall make the towers at my planning 
When I have cleared the waste beneath the 

river 
And sunk the caisson ! 
Hilda. [Laughing a little bitterly^ 

You will plan, sure, Robert! 

[44] 



THE BRIDGE 

Is there no other builder In the world? 
No, Hilda ! 

Robert. 

O but you shall plan the roadway 
And the firm beautiful approaches — you 
Shall put the last fine cap-stone to the towers. 
You shall be first to join the reaching arms 
Of cantilevers — yoii shall throw it wide 
For trafl'ic and for fleet humanity! 

Hilda. [Shaking her head~\ 

No, Robert, you have learned contempt of us — 
And (for / am a woman too, remember), 
Scorn of our work, triumph at our small fail- 
ures. 
Until I build a bridge across a stream, 
A steel suspender, an arched masonry, 
A tangible, huge cantilever — you 
Will smile and call me delicate and dear. 
Playing at work! What If I build a bridge 
One day? Why even now I sink my caissons 
In the grim darkness where I toil and grope 
And suffocate ! 

Robert. [Not quite catching her meaning'] 

You build a bridge, Beloved? 

[45] 



THE BRIDGE 

Then, see that steel and rivets are all true. 

Make your weight even, your compression just. 

Your tension sure ! 
Hilda. [Mocking] 

O Robert, Robert, Robert — 

Go dig in your own caisson ! 
Robert. [Watching the caisson'] 

Little love. 

See the great thing push up the running stream. 

This is my work! To-day it all begins — 

Movement and action in the sun — real deeds 

In open days ! O little Hilda mine. 

This bridge will span our poverty. I'll see 

You walking toward me, swift and free and 
white 

My own — across the great completed work ! 

[Hushed] O — afterward, we'll walk in twi- 
light-time 

Together on my bridge — and watch the lights 

Bloom into golden radiance below 

In the wide, swarming garden of the streets ! 
Hilda. 

Your bridge is waiting. Go, my builder — 

[46] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. 

Sweet, 
Great lamping star of all my work — I love 

you — 

I love you — [Exit. 

Hilda. {^Looking after him as he signals the tug 

below, climbs down to the river's edge and 

disappears in crowd without once looking 

back] 

[Laughing harshly] Love me? Then look 

back at me; 
[With slow conviction'] As I have lost all 

other tenderness, 
All fragrant blooming things; as happiness 
And youth have died In me, so I shall lose him! 
[She shields her eyes with her hands and 
stares intently up the river at the bridge — ] 
I hate you — how I hate you, terrible thief. 
Monster, exultant, life-absorbing thing. 
Strange sphinx, I fear you — ' more than all, I 
hate you ! 

[Drawing herself up fiercely. 
Now, in this bitter struggle, we are met. 
I, a weak, tiny, loving woman; you 

[47] 



THE BRIDGE 

The eager, lustful age — the clamorous Work, 

Avid for lovers. — Is it victory? 

Work or love? bridge or woman? you or I? 
[Goes out swiftly — head down, cloak drawn 
about her. The crowd surges on. 

Scene II 

Thro* the constantly changing crowd Landis is 
seen coming forward to railing of bridge. He 
goes down river toward works of new bridge 
with an expression of singular malignity and hate. 
As he looks about at the morning crowd, he sees 
Lanvale, the young foreman of caisson-workers on 
Robert Cameron* s bridge — beckons him. The 
men shake hands, Landis a little ostentatiously as 
tho' he would like to be seen thus visibly conde- 
scending to labor, Lanvale, with a good clean 
hand-shake. He is an honest, swarthy young 
workman who seems to regard Landis as some- 
thing curious and contemptible, but on the whole, 
amusing. 

Landis. [Friendly and patronizingly^ 

Come, talk with me and watch the city wake. 

[48] 



THE BRIDGE 

You're not too hurried, are you; caisson-gang 
Has hardly reached the works. I saw it pass! 
Lean here with me and see our brothers toil, 
Our poor stooped, weary brothers ! 

Lanvale. [^Quietly amused^ 

They can work — 
When you have strength and work to do — 
what's wanted? 

Landis. [Rhapsodical] 

Injustice — O injustice ! Look ahead. 
You see that little spot of black, that head 
Tiny as a dark blur against the sun. 
That little weazened creature is a man — 
No more, no less, and yet, he apes command, 
Orders, ordains, decides, doles pittances 
For lives that sweat and grub and toil for him. 
Why? That his vision bridge may reach and 

span, 
May take your misery to our luxury — 
And curious luxury to you — so break 
Your dignified fine silence — and proclaim 
Himself a master-builder! 

[49] 



THE BRIDGE 

Lanvale. 

So he Is. 
That's Robert Cameron. He knows his work 
And does it too. 

Landis. [Sneering] 

A cantilever — here ? 
You call that knowing work? It's folly, boy. 
Winds rage and blast and shriek across this 

stream 
Like all the blighted hags of hell. — It falls — 
It falls, I tell you, Lanvale — it must fall ! 

Lanvale. [Undisturbed] 

But every strain is right and every inch 

Of steel is calculated true. It's sure. 

Other men make their steel as strong as yours! 

Landis. 

His steel's all right. I have no little grudge. 
He chose to take Ansonian steel, not mine — 
His falling cantilever and not mine ! 
O no, I am not vexed and twitched aside 
By little tawdry demons in myself — 
Small jealousies, weak envies, little fear — 
No — I'm alive to you and all that work — 
Your rights — O brother toilers — 

[50] 



THE BRIDGE 

Lanvale. [Steadily] 

We have rights 
And they're respected. 

Landis. [Baffled] 

Well — respected ! — curbed 
And juggled into silence. O be men, 
You snouting sand-hogs ! 

Lanvale. 

Aren't we men? Come down 

And work with us. Put on rough clothes I 

Leave light 
And theatres and restaurants. Be game 
To let them pitch you down the shafts to-night 
And hell's own heat ! You'll learn to love your 

breath 
You puff away so lightly, live in dark, 
Know all its hideous, sHmy horrors, dig 
And fight with the old river-bed, be hog 
And sweating man and devil all in one. 
Feel the great, terrible, settling caisson-thing 
That sinks and sinks above you and around 
Cutting out sand and stone, down, down — 

and there. 

[51] 



THE BRIDGE 

Having forgotten all you loved before, 
Having seen death with other men, and smelt 
The tail of snaky sin beside you — there, 
Tell me we are not men ! We must be straight 
To do such work. The danger takes a fool 
And makes a hero of him. We are men ! 
Landis. \^Easily'\ 

You are at least, good Lanvale. 

\_There is a pause during which Landis seems 
to he meditating a new attack — then rumi- 
natingly : 
Landis 

So you love 
This Cameron? 
Lanvale. 

I love him as men love 
Who work together — think and dream to- 
gether. 
In some way he has been like God to me. 
Landis. [Irreverently laughing^ 

Your God? — your God? 
Lanvale. 

Yes, fool — he's like my God! 

[5^] 



THE BRIDGE 

What can you say to that? I used to rot 

In filth and vice and silly recklessness. 

I wallowed! Then he came and taught me 

work, 
And made me something faintly like a man, 
And so I love him. 
Landis. [Sneering'] 

What he gave you, boy, 
I call ideal. — But to pay himself 
He seems about to steal the best you have, 
Your very treasure. 
Lanvale. 

No — I'm sure of him. 
Slander him — show him up to suit your 

thought, 
A thief, a villain — anything you please. 
He is my friend. I'm very sure of him. 
Only go on to lie too vilely, man! 
I'll knock you caisson-deep, so help me, God! 
Landis. [Coolly] 

Why should I come to you to slander him? 
Do lies make brotherhood? Does slander 
bridge 

[53] 



THE BRIDGE 

The way between us? 

This Is true, I say. 
Lanvale. 

That Robert Cameron's a thief? O no, 

no, you might stand swearing here till night, 

1 can't believe such lies. — He is my friend. 
Landis. 

What is a thief? A man who steals cheap 

gold 
And worthless jewel gew-gaws — writhes and 

hides 
To snatch a moon-pale pearl from the deep 

night 
Of a sleeping woman's hair? No — that's a 

knave, 
A poor blind simpleton. He steals the trash 
And leaves the delicate woman to her sleep — 
The bauble, for reality! 

A thief? 
A thief would take the woman. 
Lanvale. 

You are vile ! 
Landis. 

But hear me! Did I ever lie to you? 

[54] 



THE BRIDGE 

Lanvale. 

No, Landis. 
Landis. 

Then, you'll hear me? 
Lanvale. 

Yes! 
Landis. 

This friend. 
This god-like, rescuing, beloved friend 
Is such a thief! 
Lanvale. {^Sternly'] 

No — 
Landis. \^Persistently'] 

Yes — he steals a woman ! 
Lanvale. 

Hilda Is free. 
Landis. 

It Is not Hilda — 
Lanvale. lAnxionslyl 

No? 
// can't he, 

[Yielding] Well, what woman? 

[55] 



THE BRIDGE 

Landis. 

Your Nancy! 

Lanvale. [Terrible'] 

No. — You lie ! He is my friend. 
[He drops his head on his hands — crossed 
on the railing. 

Landis. [Standing over him, beating down his 

belief, flaying him with proof] 
The whistles shrieked — and you were free to 

breathe 
Out on the river. She came tripping down, 

[Viciously as Lanvale groans. 
Your little fair beloved, light as wind 
With something like wind-swiftness in her 

tread. 
Small feet went glittering thro' the sordid 

grime 
Of steel and cordage — tender, loving brow, 
Blue eyes with smiles for you. I stood above, 
I saw, and I have never lied to you. 

Lanvale. [Huskily] 
What, what? 

[56] 



THE BRIDGE 

Landis. 

Your Robert, lounging at his ease, 
His great dark head flung backward, smiling, 

smiling, 
Ravishing all her beauty with his eyes. 
She shivered at his look — and dared not look 
And drank your kiss like poison and was gone! 

Lanvale. [Raising a drawn face triumphantly^ 
Until I see that look, I'll not believe it. 
He is my friend ! 

Landis. {^Astonished and somewhat baffled^ 
He'll never let you see It. 

Lanvale. 

Then I'll believe him — 

[Turning on Landis fiercely~\ What have you 

to do 
With Robert Cameron and me? You come 
Like a cold devil, leering, leaning, looking. 
Seeing false shadows, stirring hatred! You — 
You — socialist-believer In mankind. 
You true humanitarian — you lie. 
Set up for men to laugh at and hear prate — 
Why do you ride at ease and live in wealth7 
Copr^^ dov/n and live your dreams and theories! 

[57] 



THE BRIDGE 

Landis. [Aside — observing^ 

Hurt bitterly and strikes the nearest flesh! 
Lanvale. [As one arguing with himself^ 
I will believe my friend. I will believe. 
He is my God — my good — I will believe — 
Landis. [Looking askance at him and rolling a 
cigarette nonchalantly^ 
Will you ? — [Preparing to depart^ 

To-morrow at the Lyceum 
I lecture — then we'll see the truth together ! 

[Exit Landis. 
Lanvale. [Who has been leaning his head de- 
spairingly on the railing and gazing down 
the river, to Policeman, who touches him 
on arm and waves him ow] 
No, I'm not dead — but something in me's 

dead. 
Let me alone ! [Wearily — turning to go^ 

Thank God, there's work to do. 
Beat me down — dull me — let me be a 

brute — 
Keep down this bitter humming in my ears — 
Shut off my thinking till I know the rights 

[58] 



THE BRIDGE 

And wrongs of this hell-business. 

God In heaven! 
Robert — my friend — 

[At the thought of Landis] 

You Httle skulking devil, 
To touch my Nancy with your bitter tongue, 
She loving, living for our little son, 
So patient to his sickness! 

Yet he said — 
He said — he never lied — 

[^Triumphantly'] I'll trust to Robert! 
[After Lanvale has gone out, the crowd 
passes more thickly. — A crowd of laborers 
comes thro^ talking and gesticulating rap- 
idly. One catches the words, ' Strike,^ 
' Wages ' — ' Better hours ^ — ' Robert Cam- 
eron ' — 



CURTAIN 



[59] 



ACT II 

Between Act I and Act II the period of five years 
is supposed to elapse 

Scene: The Kindergarten room of Hildas 
settlement. Large fire-place with fire burning 
brightly, casting warm glow over the long bare 
room, pitilessly clean, with its little work-benches 
and chairs. — There are Froebel toys, charts on 
walls, blocks and the usual furniture of a kinder- 
garten-room. 

Hilda. \_As he builds awkwardly — patiently 
correcting'\ 
No, dearest, so and so — [As he rears a high 
structure] O wonderful! 
Simon. [Eagerly — his dark eyes lighting] 
Now, let us build a bridge — a cantilever 
Like Mr. Cameron's. 
Hilda. [Sharply] 

O, Simon, no — 

[60] 



THE BRIDGE 

{To herself] Why must I always hear of 
bridges — bridges. 
Simon. [Surprised, wild-eyed] 

But don't you like big bridges, Hilda? 
Hilda. [In same tone] 

No! 
I hate the great indomitable things. 
Simon. [Calling her back to him] 

What are you saying? [Pleading] Build a 
bridge with me! 
Hilda. [Tenderly gathering him into her arms] 
My darling baby — then we will build 

bridges — 
[Getting blocks together] What kind, small 
man? 
Simon. [Importantly] 
A cantilever, please. 
Hilda. [Laughing] 

Where did he learn that growling-monster 
word? 
Simon. [Building his anchorages] 
One day when I was sitting all alone 
Watching the rain and looking up and up 
[6i] 



THE BRIDGE 

To see how all those little silver balls 

Came pelting down and wondering who throws 

So many — and so many — 

Hilda. [To herself] 

My wee poet. 

Simon. 

Then the big Man who builds real cantilevers 
Came in and threw me high across his arm 
And shouted, ' Come and see my bridge ! ' O 

Hilda, 
He took me down where fires flame and flare 
Like fairy mountains, burning, burning — O, 
I love it so — the great black iron-things. 
The dredges and the cranes and travellers — 
O, all so wonderful and big and quick! 
He kept me there all day against his arm. 
Went in and out and all around his men 
And told me everything — yes, everything ! 
I was so happy. 

Hilda. [Aside] 

O, my splendid Robert, 
My tender lover! 

[62] 



THE BRIDGE 

Simon. [Prattling on, not heeding her'] 

Yes, he loves the bridge 
The way I love you, Hilda ! 

Hilda. [Rising and going to the fire — with 

great anguish in her voice] 

O my God, 
My God, he loves the bridge! [Crouching by 

the fire] O, I'm afraid 
There Is no room for me ! I was alone, 
Magnificently queen of what he thought 
And did and dreamed — and now — he puts 

me by — 
Come back to me, dear lover — come to me 
With your old potent sureness — your fine 

strength ! 
Leave the gaunt steely bridge ! Come back to 

me! 

Simon. [Conscious that Hilda is sorrowful — 
getting down out of his chair and hobbling 
to her side] 
Dear Hilda — Hilda ! Here I am. I love 
you — 

[63] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [Relieved] 

Poor baby — yes — you love me ! After all 

[Drying her eyes wearily. 
I have my work — my barren, loveless work ! 
[Jumping up impetuously from the fire- 
place. — Sudden change of mood] 
Come, let's be happy, Simon! Dance with 
me — 
[She catches him up in her arms and whirls 
him around the room. 

[She dances first with one child and then with 
another till she has whirled them all around. 
Simon. 

Sing, Hilda, sing! 
Hilda. [Hair dishevelled — eyes hard and 
tearless — singing] 
Will you be my cavalier — cavalier? 
Stout of limb and quick as fear. 
Eagle-swift when war wheels near — 
Will you be my cavalier? 

I will be your cavalier — cavalier! 
I will love you without fear, 
I will love you, smile and tear, 

[ 64 ] 



THE BRIDGE 

Battle-far or battle-near 

I will be your cavalier! 
Simon. 

Now, sing the ' Wee-Boy Song ' — I like it 
so — 
Hilda. 

Wee Boy wore a steely mail, 

(This to shield him — he so frail, 

He so thin and shining-eyed) 

Wee Boy could not choose but ride — 

So he rode, and bravely, too ! 

Wee Boy could not set a lance, 
Wee Boy could not run and dance 
But he lived beside my heart 
Till we could not live apart! 
Then, he left his steely mail 
('Twas to shield him — he so frail!) 
Left his little aching life. 
Left the tiny body-strife! 
Now he rides and bravely, too ! 
Simon. {^Satisfied'] 

I like that. He was lame like me? 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [Softly] 

Yes, lover, 
So you must ride like him and be as brave. 
Simon. 

Then, some day I will build a bridge too, 
Hilda? 
Hilda. 

O Simon, Simon — do you love your Hilda? 
Simon. 

yes — you are so kind, so gentle-voiced. 
Your hands are white and shining, yes, I love 

you I 
Hilda. [Passionately~\ 

Then, always love me, Simon! Love me, love 
me ! 

1 want it so, I want it! Love me, Simon. 
Landis. [Enters. Overhearing as he enters] 

Gad, that's a plea indeed — there's all her 
soul! 
[Hilda, rising hurriedly and picking up 
Simon. When she sees Lucien Landis, a 
look of horror comes over her face. 

[66] 



THE BRIDGE 

Landis. [Explanatory^ 
I am the lecturer — 

Hilda. [Astonished] 

You — Luclen Landis ? 

Landis. [Conciliatory'] 
You hate the name? 

Hilda. 

We Settlementers doubt 
When rich men leave their ease to talk ideals. 
Something against our souls lifts viper-head 
To cry for 'proof — and proof' — an eager 

wish, 
Perhaps ungracious — 

Landis. [Genially] 

Yes — but natural. 
Here I have built my life on enterprise, 
Have founded a great industry, have gained 
And multiplied and doubled — till, behold 
Me, rich and powerful. But, all my life 
Flows to the channel of humanity. 
Ebbs to the potent star of brotherhood. 
I walk my foundry with an open soul, 
Eager to meet the needs of every man, 

[67] 



THE BRIDGE 

Eager to make his toil bear fruit to him, 

To make his wages just and honorable. 

They are my brothers. I am less than they. 

I reverence their noble labor. 
Hilda. [^Cool'] 

Good, 

The world needs terrible examples. Come I 

Come leave your luxury to prove ideals. 

Be brother to the laborer in deed 

As in your thought ! 
Landis. 

But my great Industry, 

My men to whom the foundry fire is life, 

Red fire, warm urgent flame — what of their 
claim — 

What of the little wailing children, left 

To beg and falter into infamy? 

O no, to each his place — 
Hilda. {^Convinced of his insincerity^ 

Then, never preach! 
Landis. 

You are intolerant — 

[68] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

I am — I ask 
Only consistency — 

[^Recovering herself] But who are you 
That I should seek to draw you into truth? 
We tread our different ways. 
Landis. 

There you mistake. 
What ways are isolate? We walk along 
Shoulder to shoulder in this brotherhood 
Of life ! I walked beside you long ago ; 
I saw you live — so learned what truth I 

know 
Of you — 
Hilda. [Gladdened, but powerfully repelled by 
his personality^ 
Of me? 
Landis. 

Your life is sun and shines 
Unconsciously and fully and to all, 
Robin and mole, blithe sparrow and cold 

worm. 
On Robert the great builder and on me — 

[69] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [Disliking personal reference'\ 

What right have you to touch my personal 

hfe, 
My deep affections? 

Landis. [Sneering] 

Is that brotherhood? 

Hilda. 

God lets us keep a tiny intimate place 
Where none may enter — 

Landis. 

O consistency? 

Hilda. [Firmly] 

Where none may enter — 

Landis. 

If I burst the door? 

Hilda. [Glad] 

One stands beside to guard it — 

Landis. 

Are you sure? 
Are women ever sure? Can they absorb 
The being of their roving lover — keep 
His soul their own? Comes a new-rising love, 
A great rose-golden dawn, a new belief, 

[703 



THE BRIDGE 

A greater and impersonal Ideal — 
The work they love to do — their bridges ! 
Hilda. 

Hush, 
I cannot bear you. — Take your doubts away — 
Go preach your inconsistencies ! 

[During this conversation the sounds of an 
entering audience have come fro7n the next 
roofn — voices, women's laughter, children's 
shrill tones. Landis gets his manuscript to- 
gether, watching Hilda (who has fallen into 
a musing silence), — Simon goes on building 
bridges in the fire-light. 
Landis. [Assembling all his venom^ 

Watch this great guardian of your soul — this 

builder. 
Watch him ! Look out and see how the vast 

span — 
How the gaunt bridge has loomed across his 

thought, 
Has risen stern from Its white anchorages. 
Absorbing, drawing all his Impulses, 
All thoughts, ideals, dreams Into its span 
And now the monstrous cantilevers meet 

[71] 



THE BRIDGE 

And almost touch — the steady filaments 
Have almost grown together! With their 

life — 
With their high marriage, his strong nature 

weds 
Forever the huge power of it all — 
Mechanical beauty and metallic strength! 
And you? — w^here is there room for you — 

or love? 

\^Exit, looking hack smilingly. 
Hilda. [PFalking restlessly to and fro in the 

warm fire-light~\ 
Certainty — certainty ! — one lovely beam 
From the great central sun of Real Belief! 
O for the calm and gracious quiet power 
To hold and know ! — But doubt and doubt 

and doubt 
Swarm up across the breaches in my soul — 
Doubt of the very truth of anything — 
Question and restless question, pain, despair! 
See how they come across me — how they 

march 
Livid and fearless, bloated with disease — 
Demons of hell ! 

[72] 



THE BRIDGE 

Here, in these ghastly eyes 
I read the Doubt of Love — Is Robert mine? 
Is he my own, my lover, tender-souled, 
Strong-armed and valiant — is he my own 
Or man possessed by some tyrannic God, 
Some Inner thing that burns his love away 
And makes It Into energy to build — 
Love for the Iron monsters — the huge cranes, 
The gracious beautiful bridges — O my God — 
Is he my own, my love? I cannot know, 
I falter, question — doubt — and love him 

so — 
Can / know love — can I know anything? 
O, do I love? There Is the deepest woe. 
The wildest, shrieking maniac of all doubts — - 
l^Sits silent a moment^ staring ahead; 
quickly (as if really seeing it)^ 
Mounts a small sickly fear. — Doubt of my 

Work. 
What can / do, In my poor puerile way 
To feed these hungry, pitiful minds — to turn 
These little souls to light — / who am dark. 
Dark — dark In mine own soul — no stars, no 

moon! 

[73] 



THE BRIDGE 

[Simon is humming a little tune in a high- 
pitched child voice. He begins to take down 
his bridges, block by block. 
Hilda. [/« a deep voice'] 

Then, horrible Doubt of All — of God — of 

Life — 
Of the great base and anchorage of all — 
Doubt — doubt and horror — 

[Then, clearly as tho^ calling some one] 
- God of Humankind, 
God of the Fearful — the unstayed, unloved 
God of pure Ruth and God of Magdalen, 
Give me belief, one certainty — one faith! 
\Whisper] And let it be the certainty of 
Love! 

\She hides her face in her hands. Simon's 
blocks are heard tumbling — as he destroys 
his bridges — he goes on with his singing. 
Then, a woman's voice is heard in the cor- 
ridor outside, calling: 
Voice. 

Simon, Simon! 

[74] 



THE BRIDGE 

Simon. [^Starting up~\ 

Here, Mother! 
[Sees Hilda — crosses to her painfully and 
puts his arm around her. 
[Enter Nancy. 
Simon. 

Hilda's crying! 
Hilda. [Starting up and getting herself to- 
gether^ 
O just a moment's cowardice — [Greeting her~\ 

O Nancy — 
We women, spite of all our business. 
Have too much time for question — too much 

time 
For asking at the portal of our thought — 
Now I am better ! 
Nancy. [Solicitously] 

You are tired too — 
[To Si7non'\ Time to go star-ward, Simon! 

[To Hilda] Every night. 
Would you believe It, he goes, climbing, 

climbing 
Thro' cloud-rift and deep haze-waves to the 
stars ! 

[75] 



THE BRIDGE 

Simon. [^Standing against his mother'] 
Yes — there Is one, so silver and so bright 
Swings just above me like a shining lamp. 
I never catch it, Mother — just too high, 
Too far — and I come tumbling down again — 
[Hilda turns away to poke the fire. 
Simon. [To Nancy] 

Mother, I saw her crying. Let me stay! 
Nancy. [In low tone] 

No, dearest — she is tired. 
Simon. [Insistent] 

Let me stay! 
I will stay. Mother ! 
Hilda. [Coming hack and overhearing last 
words] 

Wee Boys in strong mail 
Never say ' will ' and frown — They know 
why, too. 

Simon. [Eagerly] 

Why, Hilda? 
Hilda. [Mysteriously] 

They have learned that mothers lead — 

[76] 



THE BRIDGE 

And whether they know * why ' or not — they 
follow. 
Simon. 

So win I, Hilda ! 
Nancy. [Amused] 

'Hilda'? 

Hilda. 

Let him say it. 
I love my name across his eager lips — 
[To Nancy] Dear Baby! He is very pre- 
cious, Nancy. 
Nancy. [Picking him up and loving him hun- 
grily] 
O — precious — 

[The women go on talking over Simon's 
head. He nods and settles down to sleep — 
a small puny bundle in his mother's arms. 
Nancy. [Kissing the small dark head] 

Is it wrong to love him so? 
To watch and want him near me all the time — 
His small dark head here heavy at my 
breast — 

[77] 



THE BRIDGE 

A wondrous burden, — wrong to love him — 

all 
Even the shrunken crippled legs — the back — 
That never can be like another's, broad 
And straight! to love him till he keeps me 

good. 
Sometimes, when I am weary of my work 
And long, long poverty — to love him so 
That I could almost pray to him to help me — 
Pray to this baby-thing to keep me pure. 
Hilda. 

I think it is as beautiful as God! 

{^Her voice vibrates strangely — as she com- 
pares this all-absorbing, unselfish love with 
her own for Robert. Simon suddenly wakes 
and hears the last word. 

Simon. 

What is He? Hilda — people talk about Him 
And never tell me what He is — 
Hilda. [Laughing at Nancy's almost frightened 
expression^ 

Good night. 

[78] 



THE BRIDGE 

[Kissing Simon~\ Go up and find Him In the 

starry ways, 
There He must be, wee poet! 
Nancy. [ To Hilda] 

I'm afraid — 
Why does he say such things? 

Hilda. [Musing] 

Some day those things 
May be remembered less to wonder at 
Than as great confirmation of his soul 
That bursts like a fine flower from this stump 
Of his poor withered body. Wait and dream 
And love him! He's a poet. Nancy — wait! 

Nancy. [Eyes shining] 

You give me hope — such hope — such happy 

dreams — 
Poets are wonderful true men — so high, 
So clear-eyed — are they not? You know — 

Hilda. [Sadly] 

Ah, yes, 
Higher and sadder-souled than other men 
And happier — who knows ? 

[79] 



THE BRIDGE 

Nancy. [Joyfully] 

Ah, little head — 
Warm head and tiny beating brain — my 

son — 
My son! [Suddenly self-conscious] Don't 
laugh at me — I love him so ! 
Hilda. 

Laugh? No, I envy. 
Nancy. 

I can talk to you. 
As tho' we had been sisters down the years 
Till now — 
Hilda. 

We both love Simon — 
Nancy. 

There It Is — 

My darling sleepy baby — 
Hilda. [Suddenly practical] 

Do you go? 
Home now into the darkness all alone? 
Nancy. 

After the lecture Lanvale comes for me — 
He's all for rights and pay and unions now. 

[80] 



THE BRIDGE 

I do not understand It — but I know 

They talk about an awful, bitter thing, 

A strike! What is it? All the men are home 

And all the work is still. No riveters 

Go working like small spinners up aloft. 

The hum of huge machinery is hushed. 

And food gets dearer — and then — sickness 

— then 
(My precious tiny baby) — Death, perhaps — 
\^She breaks off in an agony of fear. 
Hilda. 

No, Nancy! Listen to the right of it. 

You would not have your Lanvale dumb and 

gagged. 
His great arms lamed by ponderous growing 

weight, 
His fine broad back too laden, and his heart 
Fainter and fainter under hard injustice 
And organized grim wealth ! The strike must 

be — 
The men must have a voice. They must be 

brought 
Together in a union — do you see? 

[8i] 



THE BRIDGE 

Nancy. [Apologetically~\ 

I am so ignorant — I cannot think 
That men must ever leave their wives to starve 
To give their labor utterance — no — no. 
Hilda. [Imperatively] 

It's freedom — it's world-change — a better 

Day, 
A greater golden sunrise! Can't you live 
In moment-darkness that the world may know 
A clearer, wider day — 
Nancy. 

O no — O no — 
I want my life here, now — I am so small, 
So fearful — and I love this baby so — 
I want the beautiful things for him — now, 

now — 
My poor weak, crippled baby — must he starve 
While men go wrangling out the right of it? 
No, I'm afraid — afraid — 

\_A momentary coolness has sprung up be- 
tween them. There is a short silence. 
Nancy broods over the sleeping Simon. 
Hilda, her head on her hand, gazes in the 
fire. 

[82] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [Suddenly — hope just dawning in her'] 

What men will strike? 
Nancy. 

The riveters on Robert Cameron's bridge! 
Hilda. 

On Robert's bridge — 

\Then, as the thought penetrates her, she 
starts up in great joy — comes forward, talk- 
ing to herself excitedly, her eyes shining. 

This is release at last — 
The hateful work — the horrible steel thing, 
All — all must stop, and I shall have him — 

mine, 
Mine! Here is certainty — He will come 

back — 
The stern high Bridge — the span that was my 

fear 
Will sink to silence and a baleful ruin — 
Change will glide over it — the flames of 

forges 
Will die ! The steady growing cantilevers 
Will hang all mute — all dumb of energy 
Over the moving river! Men will pass 

[83] 



THE BRIDGE 

The Long Bridge saying, ' There's a plan gone 

wrong.' 
Time hke a cloud of silver rain will fall 
And fold the span in his vast shrouding wings, 
And then — and then, in some fierce windy 

storm 
Under a lurid, lightning-tortured sky 
The iron, having felt sly rust creep in, 
Creep down insidiously to the piers, 
Down to the steady quiet anchorages, 
Eating and gnawing hungrily — the iron 
Will catch the sudden stab of fibre-pain. 
Will know the end approaching and will crash 
Down — down into the greedy mounting 

stream — 
Out to the wide gray sea. At last, Release I 
There will be no more bridges in our lives — 
Nothing but love ! And I shall have him — 

mine. 
The horrible, groping cantilever arms 
Will leave us free — upon the heights of 

life, 
Alone — together ! 

\_Since Landis left the scene a constantly in- 

[84] 



THE BRIDGE 

creasing noise has been heard from the lee- 
ture-room; the sound of many angry voices 
in debate, now and then rude applause, 
shouts, chairs overturned. During Hilda's 
last speech the noise has become a steadily 
rising roar that seems to invade every part 
of the Settlement House. Now it is an- 
swered from the streets — sound of many 
feet coming nearer and nearer — the crowd 
seems to be hurling itself against the doors. 
Nancy, who has been absorbed in Simon and 
rocking him to and fro in her arms near the 
fire, has not heeded the noise at first, but as 
it grows louder and louder she becomes 
alarmed — runs back and forth from win- 
dow to window trying to see out — then ter- 
ror-stricken, runs to Hilda and shakes her 
rudely by the arm. 

Nancy. 

Hilda, what is It? 

Hilda. [Shaken out of her triumphant dreams 
— gladly~\ 
The strike ! 

[85] 



THE BRIDGE 

Nancy. [Horrified] 

The strike? [Listeningi 
They're coming nearer — here? 
[In agony] Where shall I hide the baby? 
Help me, Hilda ! 
Hilda. [Soothing] 

Stay with me, dear. — There's nothing terri- 
ble- 
Nothing to hurt you. [Reassuring] Why, we 
know these men ! 
Nancy. [Shaking with fear] 

Now they are changed! Power has made 

them bad! 
Ol'm afraid! 
Hilda. 

A coward, Nancy? 
Nancy. 

No, 
I'm not a coward — it's for Simon, Hilda ! 
We have been so long getting up this hill 
Of pain and sickness. One rude hand could 

spoil 
So many weary weeks — could hurl him back 

[86] 



THE BRIDGE 

Into the blackness we have left behind! 
My poor weak baby — but I cannot run. 
They're all around ! I hear them — like hot 
dogs ! 

Hilda. [A little scornfully] 

Nancy! That's panic! Be a woman! 

Nancy. 

No- 
rm not a woman — I'm just Simon's mother. 

Hilda. [Coldly] 
And Lanvale's wife ! 

He's out there, too ! — 

Nancy. [In deadly fear] 

O God! 
[Screaming] Help, help! 

Landis. [Rushing in dishevelled and panicky] 
Come, Hilda, Nancy! I've a way! 

Hilda. [Laughing scornfully] 

I — go? 

Landis. [Hastily] 

The men are out — I am imprudent. Then 
They turned on me like beasts. I never saw 

[87] 



THE BRIDGE 

Such fury and such joy! Quick! They'll be 

here. 
Hilda. 

I — leave my Settlement, my work — my 

place ! 
I'm not afraid of them 1 I've lived with them. 
They are my brothers. I believe in strikes! 
\_Fiercely~\ O inconsistency — come here and 

prate, 
And when the men have wakened to your 

words. 
Drunk in their meaning, taken them for truth, 
When the first whirl-winds of the mighty 

change 
Sweep grandly thro' the work-shop — thro' the 

world, 
Sending the little filth, the little wrong 
Wondrously high — you are afraid, you slink, 
You rush out madly by a hidden way 
And cry the world large pardon for your 

words — 
' I did not know ! The wind is up ! O — 

flee!' 

[88] 



THE BRIDGE 

Landis. [Stung by her words] 

Stay, then, mad woman, stay and let them in! 
This is no time for silly theories! 
[To Nancy] Come with me! 
Hilda. [Seeing something in Landis's face that 
makes her cold with fear] 

No — no, Nancy! 
Landis. [Brutally] 

Come, I say. 
[He tries to take Simon, who, suddenly 
wakened to see the detestable face bent over 
him, screams agonizingly, 
Simon. 

Hilda, O Hilda — O, the awful thing, 
The snaky face that leers and grins at me — 
What is it, Hilda? O, he's reaching up — 
He's almost got me. — • And my silver star, 
He's stolen the white star — O save me, save 
me ! 
Landis. [Trying to be pleasant, which effort 
contorts his features grotesquely] 
Come, darling ! Mother's with you ! 

[Aside] Damn the brat! 

[89] 



THE BRIDGE 

Simon. [^Hysterical'] 

I'll die, I'll die ! His hands are on me — O 
Hilda ! 
Hilda. 

You'll kill him ! 
\_Taking Si7non'] My poor Simon — come — 
[The child sobs convulsively in her arms 
with a long nervous shuddering movement. 
Nancy. [Whose hitherto dormant mother-jeal- 
ousy suddenly flames up~\ 
You shall not take my baby. Give him up. 
[Hilda hurries from window to window try- 
ing to see what the men are doing — glanc- 
ing back anxiously at the others from time to 
time. 

Nancy. [Takes Simon] 

Simon, my precious, we must run and hide — 

Hear the fierce men! 
Simon. 

But father's there with them. 

How can they hurt us? 

Nancy. 

Come with me — 

[90] 



THE BRIDGE 

Simon. [Resisting] 

O no — 
No, I shall never see it all again, 
The fire and the big light Settlement — 
No — no — and Hilda. She will go away. 
I'll be a little lame boy all alone, 
Just as I was before — 

[Screaming as they try to force him. 
O no — no — no — 
Landis. 

They're here ! Come, Simon — 

[Seizes the child. 
Simon, 

O don't let him touch me ! 

I'll go, I'll go with Mother! I'll be good. 

I'll never cry again — [To Landis] But stay 

away! 
O keep away! 

Take me ! Father ! 
[He collapses in a sobbing heap. Landis 
drags Nancy and Simon to a side door. As 
he flings it open a panting taxi-cab is seen, 
waiting, dark against the city lights. He 

[91] 



THE BRIDGE 

hurries them into it — it speeds off — as 
Lanvale enters, followed by the young cais- 
son-workers. 
Lanvale. 

Here, son ! What — why is Simon screaming? 
Hilda. 

Lanvale, 
Follow them! O I saw a devil leer 
In Lucien's face — Go after them — Be quick! 
Be quick! that way — 
Lanvale. [Understanding at last'] 

Great God — it's he — not Robert! 
[Lanvale rushes out. 
Hilda. [To Boy] 

[As the mob clamors louder outside, stones 
begin to strike against the house — one win- 
dow is broken. 
He stirred them into action! 
Boy. [Sadly] 

To revolt! 
Hilda. 

O no! he actualizes theories, 

[92] 



THE BRIDGE 

He gives these brothers voice! Poor mutes, 
poor moles — 

let them speak — 
Boy. [Uneasily] 

Their words are like brute rage 

1 think. Just hear them snarl and yell and 

whine — 
Dogs, with the world to howl in. 
Hilda. 

O don't spoil it! 

Don't curse them with their terrible ignorance. 

They are like children waking into light. 

Give them the sun — and God will teach them. 

[Nevertheless she grows a little alarmed at 

the increasing tumult. 

Hark! 
What do they want? Why do they clamor 
here? 
Boy. 

Let out, they're mad to ruin — itch to spoil. 
To burn and steal and kill — God help us 

all — 
There must be some way out — what will you 
do? 

[93] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. {Firmly^ 

I? Stay and let them in ! This Is their home. 
Boy. 

Here? But they'll kill you — [Urgent] 

Come away now, now. 
Don't let them In. 
Hilda. 

I must. Are you afraid? 
Boy. 

I ? Not for me.— They'll kill you, Hilda — 
Come — 
Hilda. 

Never — and turn my back to the one chance 
To be the thing I preach — O never, never! 
[She flings up her arms in a great gesture 
of relief and gladness. Then, before the 
Boy can stop her, she rims to the door and 
flings it open. A flood of angry men swarm 
in, yelling. Some are drunk — all are mad 
with power and success. They surround 
Hilda. 
Hilda. 

Come In, come In, my Brothers! This is 
yours. 

[ 94 ] 



THE BRIDGE 

Our Settlement Is yours, your home and mine I 
Why should you beat against shut doors? 

Come in — 
Come in — 

[Flinging her arms wide apart. 

Men. 

Hurrah for Hilda ! 

[They toss her on their shoulders and carry 
her around shouting. 
Men. 

Better hours, 
No more damned bridges! We are equal! 

Labor ! 
Union! To Hell with Cameron and his 
bridges. 
Hilda. [Trying to stem the torrent^ 

No — no ! The man's mistaken. He'll be 
just! 
A Voice. 

He's a great addle-pated nincompoop. 
Eyes to the stars — O damn his silly eyes ! 
What do we care? We'll bleed him into pay- 
ing. 

[95] 



THE BRIDGE 

Another Voice. 

Let's go and set the bridge afire ! 
Hilda. \_At last making herself heardi 

No — 
Is this the way you use your liberty? 
This Is the good we've wished and dreamed 

for you; 
The vision we have borne — your gospel: 

rights, 
Union and Brotherhood! And now you men, 
Intelligent and honest laborers; 
You, skilful artisans — good workmen, seize 
This best of wages, freedom — to go burn 
And spoil and rage and drink! 

[ The agony of a great disappointment is felt 
in her voice. 

O shame and shame ! 
A Voice. [Breaking in rudely^ 

O hush the jade! That's all the silly talk 
We've slept thro' In this ' high-brow ' Settle- 
ment — 
It's all old blithering idiocy, rot — 
Now we can get to work! 

[96] 



THE BRIDGE 

Another Voice. 

Let's gag the talk! 
What right has she to cry around and preach 
And wring her hands and rate at us ! 
A Man. [Pushing thro' crowd, and catching at 
Hilda-] 

Come, girl — 
Give me a kiss! — Come be my — 

\^Men hiss at him. 

Hilda. [Hiding her face] 

O Great God, 
And this is all I worked for after all. 
This — this ! 
Boy. [Hitting out bravely and trying to defend 
her] 

Get back, you fellows — Can't you think 
Of all the times she's helped your wives in pain, 
Fed your weak brats, bandaged your own dull 

heads. 
Nursed you and loved you, tried to teach you 

something. 
You low, ungrateful — 

[97] 



THE BRIDGE 

Angry Voices. [Breaking in] 

Hi — there, none o' that — 
Why shouldn't she have done it? We're as 

good — 
All just as good as she is — we are equal ! 
Our wives'd do for her — 

[Applause — they hustle the Boy back. 
Man. [Coming out of crowd again] 

Come, pretty Hilda — 
Come, kiss me ! 
Hilda. [Breaking away from them all and 
shaking with fear] 

Robert, Robert! O the shame — 
The weakness ! I taught freedom — taught 

them rights, 
And just because I am alone, my men 
Make me the shrinking butt of their desire! 

[Turning fiercely to the crowd. 
Have you forgotten how I loved you men? 
You — and you [pointing] I caught up from 

infamy ? 
[7^0 another] Do you remember how I 
fought for youf 

[98] 



THE BRIDGE 

I only want your justice — and my work! 
Where are the better things I made of you — 
My patient weary days — my toihng nights 
All sunken Into ashes — and the flame 
Dead hke my hope for you ! [^Pleading] 

Be what you were, 
Be open-minded, wise ! Now you are free, 
Free! 
Men. {Shouting'] 

Labor, union ! 
One of Them. {^Insistent'] 

Kiss me, Hilda ! 
Hilda. \_Drawing back shudderingly and try- 
ing not to hear the obscenity] 

Yes, 
O shout it — Freedom ! That is right at least 
However you have failed me — 

\^Her voice is drowned by shouts of 

Gag the talk! 
[Mockingly] We ought to love each other! 
A Voice. 

Kiss us all! 
[Jnn in arm the men dance drunkenly about 

[99] 



THE BRIDGE 

the room. They make a circle around 
Hilda. The Boy, who has struggled thro' 
the crowd to a place beside Hilda, tries to 
defend her, hitting out valiantly right and 
left. Hilda, seeing the men closing in nearer 
and nearer, breaks into wild laughter. 
Hilda. 

Then, I will make magnificent sacrifice ! 

Here — all I have, my work, my life, myself! 

O pitiful brothers, life has made you so — 

Now I forgive you — 
Men. \_Shouting crazily~\ 

Freedom, Brotherhood! 
\_Just as the men begin to insult Hilda, the 
door is flung wide. Robert Cameron at the 
head of a force of policemen disperses the 
rioters. Policemen arrest some of them for 
mobbing — the rest escape thro' windows 
and other outlets of the Settlement. Hilda 
sinks down near the fire, her head in her 
arms, sobbing wildly. When they have all 
gone, Robert remains, pacing up and down 
the room. 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. [After a silence^ coldly'] 
And this is Hilda ? 

Hilda. [Raising her haggard face] 

This is Hilda — stripped, 
Beaten and naked! What have you to say- 
To make her more supremely destitute? 

Robert. [Profoundly] 
I love you, Hilda ! 

Hilda. [Shrinking] 

O no — no — not that ! 

I am not a woman any more ! 

1 am a thing who fed Its life away 

To other human things around — and gave 
And gave them all — Its thoughts, its hope, its 

work! 
They drank and laughed and went their sodden 

way, 
Taking its dreams and leaving shame instead! 
Robert. [Forgiving her] 

O my dear, wounded Hilda! 
Hilda. [Doubting everything] 

I — I dear? 
Am I your Bridge? — am I the terrible span, 

[ lOI ] 



THE BRIDGE 

The noble yearning cantilever arms? 
[Scornfully'] Or is it Robert Cameron the 

man, 
Longtime possessed of Robert Cameron, 

builder. 
Now, naked, failed, discomfited, forlorn, 
Come back to weep against a woman's knees? 

Robert. [Bitter again] 

Yes, beaten and forlorn and destitute 
As you — and yet not quite so fallen, Hilda, 
That I can weep against a woman's knees — 
That I can hurt that woman to her soul ! 

Hilda. 

Yes, I am ruthless, ruthless ! Even now 
When you behold me wounded in my best. 
Hurt in my highest aim, you have no love. 
No tenderness ! That vacant, empty look. 
That cold, preoccupied, absorbed soul — 
What does it see? A Bridge, an empty 

bridge. 
Dumb wheels that whirled so gladly, labor- 
driven, 
Poor naked cranes and shivering, rusty beams. 
Dying the terrible death of long decay — 

[I02] 



THE BRIDGE 

You see your Bridge, your splendid, perfect 

work, 
The span that was to take you into fame; 
You see the swinging freedom of the arch, 
The rainbow lightness — all that was to be 
And now can never be ! You cannot see 
Hilda, who gave her soul that men might live, 
Now disillusioned, stripped and hurt and 
dead — 

\^She sinks down, sobbing. 
Robert. [Compassionate~\ 

You are my dear Beloved, bitter-sweet. 
When you betray me ! 
Hilda. 

/•betray you? 
Robert. 

You — 
You were upholding this mad mob — you, 

Hilda ! 
It means the end of all my work. 
Hilda. [Taunting] 

O men, 
We must play imitative strains to them, 

[ 103] 



THE BRIDGE 

Must compromise and soothe! But I believe 
In strikes — and must I cry against a strike 
Simply because it is your bridge, your men, 
Your riveters? 
Robert. 

Not quite so small, my Hilda; 
I do not ask your understanding, no, 
Nor that tyrannic merging of your self 
In my small plans and frail accomplishment. 
No, Hilda — but I wanted loyalty. 
That comrade-wise, affectionate belief, 
That bannered marching with me, as I march 
[Emphatically^ With all my soul beside you, 

in your work! 
There you have failed me utterly, beloved! 
Was it too much to ask? 

[She makes as if to speak. 
' No, hear me now. 

When I came slinking to a ' woman's knees,' 
When all my work came crashing down with 

me. 
When I must leave my bridge half-built — and 

why 
Because of what you preach mistakenly — 
[ 104] 



THE BRIDGE 

I came to you with pain upon my thought, 
All my sight (as you say) Invaded, held 
By a majestic broken bridge unbuilt 
And rotting and I found you mad, alone — 
[She tries to speak hut he goes on like a 
silent man who has at last found voice. 
Shrieking the words that make so much de- 
spair. 
Exulting with the men who spoil my life. 
O Hilda, was that loyalty or love? 
It Is my bridge, my work! This propa- 
ganda. 
This social summoning to violence 
Is your work. There the two. 
Hilda. 

Now hear me, Robert. 
They must proclaim their creed — cry home 

their wrongs. 
This is the creed I live In — this my bridge 
Across the streaming wrong of centuries — 
Can't you be big enough to see beyond 
Your own pent personal building to the end? 
O take your work and let our love die — 

[105] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. 

Hilda, 
Would I be clean enough to meet your love, 
Big enough, brave and man enough for you 
If that great Bridge were not in some way 

faith 
And life and God to me? There must be love 
And work In every life — these two, alike. 
We love each other 
Or thought so. For your sake I love your 

work. 
Love mine for me. And let us reconcile 
By eager loyalty what seems amiss. 
Incongruous and strange In our two lives! 
How can you put yourself so openly, 
So absolutely far from me — against me — 
Have I done that to you, to your work, Hilda? 

Hilda. 

You will not hear their plea ! 

Robert. [Firmly^ 

Yes, I will hear them. 
I am so ready to be just to them. 
But I shall never meet their violence! 

[io6] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda, beloved, know me ! Was I stern, 
Strong, all-absorbing? I believed myself 
Not great enough to build the Bridge I 

dreamed 
And you dreamed, too. Beloved, long ago 
That visible sign of open sympathy. 
That unifying bond between two shores 
Disdainfully drawn off and separate — 
Alas, not big enough to build that bridge. 
But faithful artisan enough to plan 
To work and urge It forward to that end. 
Dear, you were there before me, wondrously 
Brooding In starry silence or the span. 
Skyey, serene and tender — you, the soul. 
The beauty of It all — you, to transcend; 
You, to Inform the giant thing with life, 
To make It broad and liberal and straight. 
Open to work and traffic and quick trade, 
Open to sorrow and deep tragedy. 
To laughter, tears and love as sympathy 
Is wide and warm and gentle to us all ! 

Hilda. \_Looks up at him an instant. Sees the 
truth, the mastery, the sorrow and great 

[ 107] 



THE BRIDGE 

dignity of this Bridge-Builder — and then, 
breathlessly^ 
You put me in the building? 

Robert. [Quietly'\ 

Every beam 
Swung to its place must thank you — 

Hilda. 

Robert, Robert, 
The little work, the patient riveting, 
The caisson-groping — all, all, mine? 

Robert. [A little sadly] 

Beloved, 
You could believe it once ! 

Hilda. 

The anchorages? 

Robert. 

Built to the martial music of your love ! 

Hilda. [Wildly] 

My love — my love — O Robert, look at 

me — 
Before my soul dies in me, look at me. 
Look at me frankly with that open gaze 
[108] 



THE BRIDGE 

I love so ! Tell me — was it I you loved, 
I, or the Bridge — the woman or your dream? 

Robert. 

Why must you ask that? 

Hilda. 

O you will not answer; 
You are afraid to hurt me! Do not fear. 
I have forgotten how to feel my pain — 
Tell me. I must know, Robert — I? the 

Bridge? 
I, or the monstrous, looming, awful thing? 

Robert. 

You and the Bridge, my Hilda! Work and 

love, 
Love and my work. — There is no jealousy. 
There can be none, no silly tyranny. 
No bending of your delicate fine life 
To grow my way — we must go on together — 
Together, you in all I think and build, 
I, may God grant it somewhere in your soul — 
You like the wind above my bridges — here. 
There — all around me, pure, inspiring, swift. 

[109] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [^JVondering] 

How can I be so much to you? O no, 

The Bridge Is there before me, monstrous 

woman 
With gaunt cold iron arms — you did not love 
me — 

Robert. \_A little impatiently^ 

Hilda, you'd have me sit and strum my heart 
Like a slack lute night-long, day-long — no 
deeds? 

Hilda. 

No, no — but all your work's away from me. 
Remember we can't follow you, unjust, 
Unjust that we must sit and think and sob 
Beside the fires at our little tasks 
And you free workers building in the sun. 
Building for men and women yet to come — 

Robert. 

As you build, Hilda — 

Hilda. [Bitterly disappointed'] 

O I hiiild in vain — 
Could you not see how rude and vile they were 
To me? 

[no] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. [Amazed] 

I only saw a joyful crowd 
Violent with its satisfaction — 
Hilda. 

No — 
They were so vile to me — I was afraid 
And then you came. 
Robert. [Taking her in his arms] 

O love, forgive me — now 

I see how hurt you are — how starved for love 

And comfort! — that was why you doubted me 

And seemed to hate my Bridge — 

Hilda. [Remembering how she hates it now 

and has cursed it, shuddering] 

O / am vile — 
Robert, my lover — I have borne a sin 
Hideous as a little crooked life, 
Horrible — hear me ! 

Robert. [With an invincible disgust to being 
further disillusioned] 

You, ah Hilda, no — 
I will not hear it [Kissing the words away. 

[Ill] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

Let me tell you now! 
Robert. 

When you are in such sorrow? All your life 
Seemingly cast before those snouting swine — 
Hilda. [Still loyal to her worki 
O they will grow to manhood — 
Robert. [Firmly] 

I believe it. 
Hilda. [More and more unable to keep silent] 
O Robert — let me tell you — can I lie 
Here in your arms and you not know the 

truth? 
You would not love me — 
Robert. [Looking down at her] 

Nothing you could do 
Or say or think or love could kill my love ! 
Hilda. [Ashamed] 

how you hurt me — Let me tell you, Rob- 

ert! 

1 am so weary of these battles! Now 
Let me speak once and then go out alone — 

[112] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. [^Tenderly^ 

Hush, sweet — your eyes are heavy with old 

pain. 
Rest — rest — 
Hilda. 

I think your love is a dear port 
And I, a battered, scarred, unseemly ship 
Come in to rest — [^Struggling again'] O no, 
I must speak, Robert — 
Robert. [Soothing her] 

See how the storms have rent your delicate 

sails. 
Wait, dearest — we shall hear it soon 

enough — 
Now let me love you ! 
Hilda. 

O forgive me, Robert. 
Forgive me for my hungry selfishness. 
My vast desire for more love, more love 
And ever love — my weak ridiculous aims, 
My windy huge pretensions — Love, forgive 
me — 
Robert. 

If you forgive me — all my hard reproaches — 
[113] ^ 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. 

Ah you will know some day how I deserved 

them — 
There are two broken bridges in our lives — 
To-morrow, I must tell you. — Say you'll love 

me 
Even if — no, I'll take no compromise. 
I cannot take a broken, bleeding love — 
O let m.e tell it now — 
Robert. \^Kissing her~\ 

To-morrow, Hilda ! 
Hilda. 

Kiss me, my lover — O I am afraid! 
You kiss m.e slowly as it were the last — 
The last great consummating, wondrous kiss! 
Is it the last? 

\_Looking in his face eagerly. — He kisses 
her again. 
Hilda. [Yearning'] 

O Robert, Robert, Robert! 
[She goes out slowly, her head bowed. 
Robert. [Alone] 

My Bridge ! To-morrow, devastation, waste, 

[114] 



THE BRIDGE 

Silence — and with what beautiful symmetry, 
It almost spanned the darkness, almost 

joined 
In a supreme mechanical effort — God, 
Great Artisan, who teachest me to build, 
Invoking loveliness from strength — behold. 
Behold — and give me men to build with 

me — 
Lanvale. [Rushing hi] 

Landis has kidnapped Nancy and the boy — 

God, he's a liar! He and I together 

Have made this strike — Now kill me, Robert 

Cameron. 

Robert. [Catching a pistol from the table'] 
Which way? Get Morris and the armed po- 
lice — 
We'll find them ! Look up, man — I'm your 
friend. 
Lanvale. [Dazed] 

You — you won't kill me — 
Robert. 

Don't stand gaping there — 

[IIS] 



THE BRIDGE 

Lanvale. 

I'll tell them all he did — I'll break this 

strike — 
You are too straight to hanker after Nancy — 
Robert. 

Nancy? 
Lanvale. 

He told me that, O liar, liar ! 
I'll get the men to-morrow for your bridge — 
You'll trust me? 
Egbert. 

Anywhere — 

Come on — we'll find them. 
Lanvale. 

O yoiiWe a friend — God bless you — 
Robert. \^Exit^ 

Now, which way? 



curtain 



[ii6] 



ACT III 

Scene: Robert's nearly completed bridge. 
Hilda comes forward, picking her way between 
debris and cranes, etc. It is a moonlight night — 
toward dawn. The lights of the two cities burn 
steadily. During the scene the moon sets and 
dawn comes up over the cities. The never-sub- 
dued roar of the tram-cars and sub-ways is heard 
behind and below Hilda. 

Hilda. 

How patiently it lies beneath the moonlight ! — 
Over the river's dark and slime and hurry, 
Over the blazing cities. 

[^She is silent, watching the night and the 
waning moon. Thro* the stillness, The 
Bridge speaks in a great bell-voice, very 
clearly. 
The Bridge. 

I am waiting. 

[117] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. \^Drea7mly'\ 

I hear The Bridge — a world-bell in my 
senses, 

A great metallic music. 

[Gazing down at the cities^ O my people, 

People I loved and worked for — ye who hurt 
me 

And take my love and give me jeers and laugh- 
ter — 

People that I shall always love — hush ! Hear 
us — 

For we shall speak together in the moonlight 

And I shall kill my hate with naked hands, 

God helping me ! 
The Bridge. 

I wait for you, my daughter, 

I can wait steadily — in centuries. 

In ages — in eternity — I wait — 
Hilda. [Frightened'] 

It must be something breaking in my thought. 

Shall I leap down and leave the little battle? 

The river runs like time so fleet, so fearless. 

Inexorably swift — and I might fall 

And no one heed of all these rushing cities — 
[ii8] 



THE BRIDGE 

The lights would blaze on earnestly the 

same — 
The din and laughter, the sad tears, the curses 
Would flare up evermore, like sparks, a mo- 
ment's 
Fire — then lost against a sky of blackness 
And ever-springing, ever-burning upward — 
But I would lie relaxed and dead and peace- 
ful 
In the great river that is swift as time ! 
Would my face make a bubble — a white 

petal 
On the smooth blackness? Would he find me? 

No — 
I must not leap — 
The Bridge. 

No — / am waiting, daughter. 
Hilda. 

What calls me? 1 am afraid. To-morrow 
I must tell Robert. He will learn to hate me. 
They say strong men with broken dreams go 

mad ! 
Will he go mad? 

[Her voice trails off into silence. 

[119] 



THE BRIDGE 

The Bridge. 

And still I wait, my daughter. 
Hilda. 

PFhat are you, awful voice — great naked pres- 
ence? 
The Bridge. 

I am The Bridge you hated! 
Hilda. [Laughing wildly'] 

No, I hate, 
I hate you, hate you, you indomitable 
Flawless ! What right of all the rights of law 
Had you to span and reach and bridge his life? 
Answer me ! 

We are met to speak together. 
[She listens thro^ the stillness — then, breath- 
lessly : 
I listen — Iron vindicates Herself, 
Steel sings the anthem of her own belief. 
All Time in this great present modern Time 
Speaks — 
The Bridge. 

Right? The right of greater, higher aims 
To span and arch above the little. Girl — 

[ 120] 



THE BRIDGE 

tear the veils and see! I am your dream! 

1 am the ages' word that you have sought, 
The evident great meaning, the expression. 
I am the span of evil, sympathy! 

Your clearest vision built me, dreamed me, 

shaped me ! 
O you were always going on before, 
A most courageous woman, beckoning, 
Down the white paths of conquest! 'Arch 

and lean, 
O giant cantilevers join! ' you cried, 
' Meet marvellously somewhere over all. 
Unite these warring cities — teach them peace! 
Let wealth and poverty — let pride and crime. 
Justice and evil pass and meet and merge 
Into a generous transcending whole. 
O sympathy, high shining sympathy. 
Span them their distances ! ' You saw me so. 
You made me in your soul ! How can you 

hate me? 
Hilda. [Uncertainly] 

How clear the voice — how sweet — 

[Lotider~\ I know, I know, 
Yet that low half of me, the hating half! 

[121] 



THE BRIDGE 

No — I am jealous Woman — and I want him, 
I want my lover — mine ! I hate you, Bridge ! 

The Bridge. 

Your hate has made this silence in my work. 
Girl, do you know how hate makes agony 
And uselessness and bare sterility? 
Love me ! surrender your own personal love 
To my av/ed worship. Love me first — then 

him. 
Let him love me and then you tenderly — 
Work! Work and Love! Then, I shall 

span your wrong. 
Then I shall bridge the chasms out of Past 
Into a shining Future ! Love me, first. 

Hilda. [Feeling herself yielding] 

O sky, grave sky — O teeming mother-cities, 
Help me ! Lay urgent hands upon my spirit ! 
O, draw me back into safe human love. 
For I shall yield — O I shall yield at last! 

The Bridge. [Calmly] 

Look far ahead, my daughter, look ahead ! 
Do you not see grave bridges, free suspen- 
sions, 

[ 122] 



THE BRIDGE 

All woven, bullded, swinging in the sunlight 
Over the bitter streams of old neglect, 
Old sad misunderstanding, see us stand 
Like a glad-going company of workers 
Linking the separate and the little-souled, 
The great, the tiny, the unfortunate. 
We in our inmost and colossal nature, 
In our capacious wombs shall bear such builders 
As your own reverent loving builder Robert — 
Look far ahead, look far ahead, my daughter! 

Hilda. 

O but this moon, this day, this flushing day- 
leap. 

To-morrow and to-night, to-night I want 
love — 

Now I want life ! 

The Bridge. 

And you shall have them, daughter — 
Life in my shadow — love upon my footway. 
Faith in my loyal girders and sure truss- 
work — ■ 
Present, the bridge to take us into Future — 
That will be ours ! 

[ 123] 



THE BRIDGE 

Learn, O my suffering daughter, 
Learn to relinquish your own puerile aim 
To one vast arching love — one mighty truth 
Like mine ! 
Hilda. [Pleading'] 

I cannot give you up, my Lover. 
O I am like the women of all time, 
Sad, yearning, clamorous women there behind 

me 
Who fight the Demon of their lovers' work. 
Your hideous girders, your hard steel suspen- 
sions. 
All engines and endeavors and world-business! 

O God, the damnable cold might of you 

To draw him out and fill his soul with clamor 

And teach him strong ambition. O cold 

thieves 
That blanch his brow and sadden him beside 

us 
And draw him back, inevitably back — 
[Sobbingi Give me my lover — give me back 

my lover! 

[124] 



THE BRIDGE 

The Bridge. 

You will be building here. Conceive your 

soul 
Enfranchised like your sisters', swift beside 

him 
Pointing the way, Inspiring and directing 
Banner-like to the way of his advance. 
Keen, white, unsullied — O my human daugh- 
ter. 
How can you hate me? I am Labor's spirit. 
The patient and mechanical and faithful, 
Kin to the wheels of those far living cities — 
And you are gloriously human! Love me, 
Envy me not — I am not like a woman, 
I am the sexless soul of work. O love me — 
Hilda. [Falling to her knees~\ 

Yes — yes — That may be. Teach me ! I 
am silent. 
The Bridge. 

Love me — and wonderfully we shall build 
What spans — what bridges — gleaming open 
bridges ! 
Hilda. [After a silence'] 

And now I feel my anger waning, dying 

[125] 



THE BRIDGE 

Into the rose-winged clouds of peace and quiet. 
I am not hateful. I am sad — quiescent. 
Teach me — 

The Bridge. 

There will be morning soon, my daughter. 

Hilda. 

Teach me! I hear the voices of the Bridge. 
I can hear girder shout to girder, ' Hold, 
Strain — pull together ! ' I can feel the foot- 
way 
Roll out its yielding floor to many feet — 
I can feel anchorage and dim foundation 
Bracing — all yearning forward to the 

shore — 
Eager to leap the stream and bear the People, 
Glad to mean sympathy and Human love ! 

Bridge, stern quiet soul of work, I 

yield — 

1 am content to take my place beside you, 
Below you in his heart! Span! Chant, ye 

rivets, 
Sing all the tiny parts and little girders ! 
Seek the shore, Bridge, bind separate bitter 

cities. 

[126] 



THE BRIDGE 

I love you, bridge — I love you — this is 
morning ! 
[0« the approaches a great body of work- 
men come forward. They stand and talk 
together in the morning sunlight. The city 
slowly wakes as Hilda and Robert turn to 
each other. 
Robert. {Gladly^ 

The men are coming back to build my 

Bridge — 
The strike is off — Lanvale has set them 

right — 
They look to me for justice — They will have 

it — 
He made the strike — 
Hilda. \_Eagerly'] 

My lover — it was I — 
Egbert. 

7o« — Hilda? 
Hilda. [Bravely] 

I — I hated your great bridge. 
I taught dissension, Landis helped — 

[127] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. 

You, Hilda? 

You — you, my white, my fleet, my tender 

Hilda? 
You — so divinely sure — you? O no — 

no — 
You are the only beauty in my life, 
The one thing undeniable, unshaken. 
The truth, the far white vision. Hilda, spare 

me — 
Take away joy and life, but leave me love. 
Leave me your truth ! 
Hilda. 

I cannot spare you, Robert. 
I cannot spare myself — Now you behold me. 
I hated your great bridge — I wanted you 
Selfishly mine — I tried to tell you, lover — 
You loved the truth away and kept me sacred. 
Sacred, you thought — But now — I bare my 

nature 
Utterly ! know me too — but now I love it — 
I wrestled in the silence and was conquered. 
I love your Bridge, your work — I love you, 

more. 

[128] 



THE BRIDGE 

Robert. \^Firmly^ 

Nothing you did or thought can kill my love — 
Hilda. 

you are like strong sun. I cannot bear It! 
It cannot be — you love me? You forgive me? 
[Then, bravely^ The vision may He dead — 

the love, too: Work 
Rises supreme. I shall go out alone — 
Yet for your own soul, for your work, dear 

lover, 
You must forgive her! 
Robert. * 

O I love you, dearest. 
The Bridge. 

I, sympathy, the soul of Work and Labor, 

1 say, you must forgive — O mighty builder, 
You must forgive me ! 

Robert. 

There — our work has spoken! 
Come home with me — O bravely risen spir- 
it — 
Look — deeper, deeper — In my soul ! I love 



you ! 



[ 129] 



THE BRIDGE 

Hilda. [Seeing that he loves her~\ 

We have our Bridge to build to-day — our 

span, 
Our bridge — our lives — See in the morning 

— music 
Workmen — an army — Storming all the ways 
Of ignorance to build a bridge with us ! 
Up — up the heights of tumult and confusion 
Into the day! This is the throng of Labor, 
The march of men across all differences, 
The warring cities shall know peace — shall 

meet ! 
Hasten, great Bridge, build, Lover — They 

are waiting. 
Wealth and pale poverty and sin and God, 
All, all are waiting — Quick, O Bridge — rise 

surely — 
Bridges — world-Bridges, span like sympathy. 
Till there are left no bitter gulfs to pass! 
[With the sun on their faces they turn to 
the approaches. Lanvale is seen with Simon 
on his shoulder leading the workmen back 
to the Bridge. With the light in his eyes 
the Boy looks like the genius of new work. — 
[ 130] 



THE BRIDGE 

The workmen's tools flash in the sunlight. 
They are shouting for Robert Cameron. 
The tramp of their feet makes sonorous 
music. The Bridge swarms with life and 
labor. 



CURTAIN 



[131] 



THE MIRROR 



THE MIRROR 

Scene I 

The Magician Builds His House 

An open place in a forest of Brittany. Be- 
yond the heather one can feel rather than see the 
ocean. Throughout the scene is heard the vague 
murmurous noise of the waves. The Magician, 
a great hoary man, is seen laboring with rocks. 
He is clad in the long robe of a seer or astrologer, 
which he now wears girt around his hips. 
The Magician. 

My house shall be a silver dwelling-place ! 
Against the mild, gray sky of Brittany 
Shall grow these firm and steadfast walls. 

Below 
Encircling moat shall curl, while portcullis 
Shut stralghtly like the lips of warriors 
Shall keep us safe and constant. O my house, 

[135] 



THE MIRROR 

My beautiful, brave vision, my high dream. 
How I have gathered treasure for thy walls! 
[As he speaks, the foundation builds itself 
as if by miracle. The walls take shape and 
solidity. He moves among the waste stones, 
selecting, rejecting, rearing. 
[A little brown deer runs out of the forest. 
The Magician. 

O, little brown deer bring me courage and 

peace from the forest! 
Bring me speed from the hurrying leaves; 

bring me joy from the flowers! 
All these I have lost in the stars — all these I 

would find, 
That my castle may rise in the pinnacled guise 

of my vision, 
For I have grown old in amassing treasure, 
my house is unbuilt! 
[A serpent glides from under the leaves. 
A toad hops near by. 
The Magician. [^Working fiercely^ 
O, gliding creature of the under-leaf, 
Secret and silent, give me wisdom ! Thou, 
Phlegmatic, leering and absorbed toad, 

[136] 



THE MIRROR 

Give me thy open maw to take In all, 
Flies, fairies, dreams and moonlit fantasy, 
So that my house may have the greatest gifts 
Of all the kingdoms of the universe ! 

\_The house still rises. The creatures stand 

transfixed. Over the wood a cloud of birds 

hovers, circles, drops, \inging: 
The desire of air and space 
The look of the world's broad face; 
The calm of a mountain-mist; 
The secret wondrous tryst 
Of night and rosy dawn 
Wherefrom white day Is born — 

Are mine, are mine! 

The glory of storm In the sky; 
The thrill of the far and high. 
The tears of the clouds; the rain; 
The forest, the tiny train 
Of elves in the lower fern; 
Freedom, freedom! Ah, learn 
What is mine, what is mine ! 

\^They fly through, singing. 

[ 137] 



THE MIRROR 

The Magician. [Calling after them] 
Ah, stay! My house has need of you! 

[The little creatures slink out. A white 

hrach runs through. He is keen on the 

scent. 
The Magician. 

Hallo ! 

[The hrach runs on unheeding. 
Selfish white hound of superb chivalry, 
Bent on a scent of pleasure, too intent. 
On the small trail of a dumb creature's blood 
To turn aside and help me build my house ! 
O, unobserving and contented world, 
O, kings and knights and flower-scented maids, 
I would ye all sat by, yea knelt around. 
Dumb-struck, quiescent, wondering, to see 
My house rise like Dame Venus of the Foam 
From this too-troubled sea I name my thought. 
Alas, they miss the real ! They go astray 
On phantom hunt of love and chivalry 
While a great actual conquest urges here. 
While a tremendous battle is to fight! — 
While I, the Master, build my gracious house! 

[138] 



THE MIRROR 

\_An old man, followed by a heavy-laden ass, 
comes through. 

The Magician. 

Fair Sir, what think you of my castle-walls? 
[The old man comes forward solemnly, 
leans on his staff, ruminating, looks over 
the house, which has already attained a 
goodly height, and shakes his head. 

Old Man. [Quietly^ 

Have you been long a-building? 

The Magician. 

All my life. 
Old Man. 

What, in the actual masonry? 

The Magician. 
Nay, nay, 

But I have gathered treasure from the sky, 
Here, a white star, there, a celestial world 
With waving fronds and saintly habitants. 
I have been down to hell for fire-red 
To warm the hearth-stone. I have searched 

the earth 
For her heart-gems, have dived upon the floor 

[ 139] 



THE MIRROR 

Of ocean for one pearl! That I have not, 
But I shall have it, I shall have it yet! 

[^Sees the bundle on the ass's back. 
What have you there, fair Sir? Gold, ame- 
thyst. 
Ruby, or cool green emerald? Give it me, 
Give it me, for my house! 

[The old man shakes his head. 
Old Man. 

Since you have found 
Worlds, stars, hell-beauty and rich earth-con- 
tent. 
Why would you strip me of my pitiful 
Substance? 
The Magician. [Impatiently'] 

To build my house, to build my house ! 
Old Man. 

'Tis my one daughter's dower! 
The Magician. [Coldlyl 
What is love 

To my great silver-bastioned house? 
Old Man. [Pitifully'] 
Alas, 

Love Is /^^r house, my master! 
[ 140] 



THE MIRROR 

The Magician. \^A little amazed] 

Can men live In their love? Can men be 

warm 
In the faint airy shell of poetry, 
Can a blush clothe the body? Can a joy 
Be business In life? ' Love Is her house.' 
Folly, old man, folly ! 

Old Man. [With dignified resolution] 
I keep my gold. 

The Magician. [Persuasively] 
Come, It would make rare building! 

Old Man. [Firmly] 
Nay, my friend. 

The Magician. [Hotly] 

Thou selfish like thy selfish fellows! All 
Would keep their little treasure ! Think of 

gold, 
All the good gold of earth built In one place. 
All the great parchments In one perfect room, 
All art and fantasy and loveliness, 
Chivalry, war-spoils, pride, all glistening kings. 
All met together! So my house would be 
But for your silly wish to keep from me 

[141] 



THE MIRROR 

What should be cast and heaped before my 
feet! 
\_The old man goes out quietly. Just before 
he reaches the farthest trees, he stops, looks 
hack and says dreamily: 
Old Man. 

The ground-work is on sand, O master-man, 
The walls rise all too quickly ! 
The Magician. \_Scoffing] 
Like enough! 

{^He continues his work and the walls rise 
steadily. 

\^Noise of warfare, battle-trump, tattoo of 
horses' feet and the jingling of armor. A 
troop of knights ride out of the wood: then 
. draw up amazed at the Magician and his 
work. 
A Knight. [The leader] 

Good morrow, master ! 
The Magician. [Shortly, working meanwhile] 
A fair day to you ! 

[The knights confer apart. 

[142] 



THE MIRROR 

First Knight. [Riding forward] 

Brother, we ride away to war. 'Tis God 
Knights us! We journey for his sacred tomb. 
' Death to the Turk! Lord Jesus! ' is our cry. 
A white flame guides us in the wilderness, 
Our horses' feet are spurred with holy zeal, 
Our sword is keen for low impiety. 
Our voice is clear for godly battle-psalm ! 
No feast, no joy, no love can hold us back. 
And yet we would not pass you in your need. 
Is there swift work to do? 

We succor you ! 
The Magician. 

Ah, gallant sir, of all who go our ways, 
Creep out of forest and go ambling on, 
Whether on feast or joy or love intent. 
Ye are the only Christians who have paused 
To lift for me a finger's mightiness! 
All thanks! St. Denis for true chivalry! 

[The knights dismount, unharness, lay by 
silver armor and tossing plume. The horses 
are put by themselves to feed. The knights 
set to work. They bring large stones. 
One, a painter-knight, makes for himself a 

[143] 



THE MIRROR 

scaffold and begins to decorate the wall. 
Some work inside. The Magician seems to 
dominate and inspire them all. The work 
goes forward rapidly. 
The Magician. 

Ah, so I have beheld my palaces 

In fragrant star-watched dreams! So have I 

sung 
My castle, my great house : — That men should 

come 
From all the ways of life. Keen warriors 
Would lay down spear and shield and battle-axe, 
Would put off cloaking armor and take up 
The righteous homely weapon of mine art 
And build with me. I dreamed that all the 

world 
Would bring far treasure for my glory. 

Priests, 
Rich men and seers and kings and doctors, all. 
In a world-frenzy, would work here with me. 
Building! 

How silver-gray the pinnacles. 
How stern the crest, how magic clear the moat ! 
Beautiful house that I have loved so long 
[ 144] 



THE MIRROR 

Rise nobly! Time shall come and touch thy 
walls 

With quiet artist-fingers. Use and life ^ 

Shall make thee the long prophesied and 
dreamed, 

And I shall rest my weary eagerness 

In thy wide halls ! 

\_Jiist then the foundation of the house quiv- 
ers, yields. A whole tower falls with a tre- 
mendous crash. The knights flee, fearing 
black magic, making the sign of the cross. 
The leader-knight falls on his knees and 
prays aloud. The whole body take up the 
Litany and go off singing. The voices are 
heard through the noise of falling debris. 
The Magician chases them out, vehemently 
shouting: 

Ye came to take my glory, thieves and blind, 

Dogs of a common life ! Vile infamy 

Chase ye to hell ! May all the plagues of 
pain 

Lay hold on ye with agonizing clutch ! 

Woe madden ye — Hell burn ye, God above 

Damn ye eternally! 

[ 145 ] 



THE MIRROR 

[They flee in terror. The Magician stands 
with arm raised in anathema till the dust 
of falling ruin clears away and shows the 
house half fallen. Then he turns, sees the 
destruction and falls upon his knees in de- 
spair. 
The Magician. 
My lovely place, 

Again I hear the groan of dying beam, 
The shriek of falling ruin! O again 
I build thee brave and fine and beautiful, 
A bold and soaring castle, and again 
Thou fallest, fallest, fallest! I have loved 
Every slim arch and clustered capital. 
Every white stone, each solemn masonry! 
Thou art my child, my dream, my ecstasy. 
My love, my solitary wondrous love ! 
Now thou art fallen, fallen! O, my God, 
My God, my Sire, and Thou art somewhat 

cruel, 
A little stern, a little terrible ! 
What have I done in all my thinking life 
That I should ever build, build bravely, too, 
Only to see my house crash down to-night? 

[146] 



THE MIRROR 

I have begun again, begun again, 

Reared thy foundation, seen it fall, and then 

Begun again ! 

O my lost beautiful house! 
[Silence, while night gathers over the field. 
He rises and begins to collect the debris, 
sadly, with age heavy on his heart. He sorts 
the material into piles and goes mechanically 
about rebuilding. Suddenly he stops and 
sinks down in utter weariness — then urges 
himself up again, crying: 

What is there left but to begin again? 

[A palfrey bearing a white woman comes 
thro' the wood. She sees the Magician and 
smiles wisely to herself while he builds. She 
has great, untroubled, sea-blue eyes. The 
Magician sees her as she fades into a white- 
ness in the forest, makes as if to call her. 
Then stops himself, laughs aloud and says, 
bitterly : 

Her house Is love ! She could not build with 
me! 

[The birds fly over, singing: 

[ 147 ] 



THE MIRROR 

I have neither dwelling nor place 
But the infinite home of space ! 
I build tiny nests in the spring, 
Just to love in, to mate in, to sing! 
Not even the dew on my wings 
Is a clog like the fetters of things! 
I am free — I am free ! 

Scene II 

The Magician Builds Anew 

As the curtain rises, the castle is disclosed^ 
nearly built, save for one tower. It is supremely 
beautiful. The song of the birds, ^ I am free! 
I am free! ' is heard in the distance. After a few 
minutes, a mist gathers over the castle and hides 
it. The scene changes almost imperceptibly. 
We are now in the heart of the forest. There 
are great moss-covered trees; a deep clear pool in 
the centre. A brooding stillness is over the scene; 
now and then faint murmurs in the silence — the 
crackling of twigs, the sleepy chirp of a bird, the 
passage of a breeze. The Magician, as he 
walks forward between the trees, shows the weari- 

[ 148 ] 



THE MIRROR 

ness of great achievement. Now and then he 
stops to breathe the pure air and listen to the for- 
est. At last he comes forward and sits beside the 
pool. 
The Magician. 

My house Is built I The morning-crested tow- 
ers 
Rise to the blue in hopeful ecstasy. 
The bannered halls are silent and serene. 
The watchman scans the world from his high 

place. 
Turrets and roof and arch all silvered o'er 
By the stone's lovely color-balustrade. 
Like lace scarfed delicately here and there, 
Foam-points of carving and majestic walls, 
A gorgeous woven tapestry of stone, 
My palace hangs upon the morning! Ah, 
Home of my soul, home of my tired soul ! 

\^He flings himself down by the pool. 
Silence is like a cool hand on my brow. 
The whispers of the forest take great voice 
To tell me fantasy, ah age-forgot. 
In mine old ears ! This stir of shimmering 
leaves 

[ 149] 



THE MIRROR 

Murmurs like silken robes upon the wind. 
A tree speaks — then the quietude — a bird 
Lifts up a plaintive voice. Her mate is dead 
Mayhap. The ferns wave rhythmically slow, 
Like slender green-clad maidens to a song. 
This pool looks calmly up to heaven's face 
Unsullied, fearless. Ah — this pool — 

\He leans nearer in astonishment, rubbing 

his hand across his brow. 

— this pool! 
I never saw myself so clearly! Hair 
White? Then I am an old man after all! 
Lines as of carven pain? Then I have wept! 
(I hardly felt the tears.) Old, old am I! 
Stooped shoulders and the haggard, fumbling 
hands! 

But what is this that creeps across my 

brow? 
Something unutterably sad, some mark 
Of failure? O, a futile silly thing! 
I will not look! 

[He turns away impatiently, but is impelled 

to come back to the pool. 

[ISO] 



THE MIRROR 

What can it be? [fVith great conviction} 

My soul ! 
The meaning of the cold and snowy hair — 
The word beneath the wrinkles, 'tis my soul ! 

[Leaps up in great excitement. 
O, to have found this mirror for my soul, 
This virgin candor of a forest pool, 
Where sky smiles up at me and leaves float 

slow. 
Where patient grasses sway beneath the wind! 
O, to have found this mirror for my thought! 
Lo, faithfully it sends me back myself 
Real and actual, just as I live. 
Think, dream and suffer! When I lean at 

peace 
My mirror imperturbably reflects 
Gentleness and the mellow autumn air 
That smooths my brow. 

When storm-rebellion 
Knots my poor being to a crippled thing, 
Loathsome and bitter, then the pool is dark, 
Stirred by the slimy things that swim and lie 
Under the water. When I love my life, 
Blue, blue and sunny Is my forest-pool. 

[151] 



THE MIRROR 

And when I kill my brother momently 
The waters are like red, red tides of hell 
Foaming to flame ! I dare not look at sin 
That snarls across my features, for this pool, 
Truer than the true north sends back to me 
My sin, more fearful from Its holy blue 
Of lucid water. There I see It float 
Horribly vivid — till I cannot look 
Lest I plunge In and murder the foul thing! 
O, after all my building, blessed Christ, 
I thank Thee for this mirror of my soul! 
[He gazes into the pool. The White 
Woman comes out of the wood leading her 
palfrey. 
The White Woman. [Wisely smiling^ 

What do you see? 
The Magician. [Awestruckl 
I see myself. 

[In sudden despair. 

Alas, 
I cannot see my castle In the pool! 
The White Woman. [Steadily'] 

God made this pool to mirror truth, Magician I 

[152] 



THE MIRROR 

The Magician. 

{^Tearing his eyes from the mirror to look up 

at her — fearfully. 
Your eyes are like the water, blue and wide. 
Mysteriously and yet divinely clear — 
Your eyes are like a mirror for my soul ! 

[^He runs to the White Woman, sinks on his 

knees at her feet and kisses her hands. 
Come with me to my house, come, look with me 
At its pure loveliness ! Convince my soul 
That I have built it — I have made my house 
Of all the treasure-gold of all my years ! 
See my brave house and tell me it is mine! 

\_The White Woman, still smiling curiously, 

moves to the Magician's side. They go out 

hand in hand. 

[The scene changes imperceptibly. We 
are on the great platform of the castle. The 
towers gleam beautifully in the sunlight. 
The White Woman and the Magician are 
seen approaching quietly, she always leading 
her palfrey. They stop before the castle. 

[153] 



THE MIRROR 

The Magician. 

My house, the glorious house I built for you ! 
The White Woman. [Gravely] 

Nay, not for me. Magician — for yourself ! 
The Magician. [Unheeding] 

Tell me the walls are beautiful and strong. 

Convince the artist — me, incredulous 

That it is beauty, vision actualized ! 

Tell me my house is beautiful! 
The White Woman. 

Indeed, 

The walls soar bravely! Were you building 
long? 
The Magician. 

Thro' all the morn of youth until the night 

Of sorrowful age. 
The White Woman. 

The actual masonry? 
The Magician. 

Nay, I collected treasure everywhere! 
The White Woman. 

Stole gold and stone, stole truth and loveliness? 

[IS4] 



THE MIRROR 

The Magician. 

Yes, for my marvellous House ! 

[^The house has begun to move mysteriously, 
as if it were really a tapestry hung in the 
sky, agitated before the strong wind. The 
walls fade slowly. It recedes. It melts 
away. 
The Magician, [/w terror'] 

O, my great house, my house! Thou, Mirror- 
eyes, 

Stay it! [Running wildly after it] 

It draws away! It fades from me! 
The White Woman. [Calmly] 

How can you keep it? It was never yours. 
[The Magician looks into her eyes, sees the 
truth and falls on his knees acquiescing, as 
the castle fades away, like beautiful gray 
mist. They watch it together. A solemn 
music is heard. Then a flock of birds fly 
over, singing: 

I have neither dwelling nor place 

But the infinite home of space ! 

I build tiny nests in the spring. 

Just to love in, to mate and to sing, 

[155] 



THE MIRROR 

Not even the dew on my wings 

Is a clog like the fetters of things! 

I am free — I am free ! 

[^The birds fly over. The scene is silent. 
In the distance the receding castle is seen like 
a dream on the horizon. 
The Magician. 

Now, I shall build my castle ! — not for me, 

Not warm and beautiful for mine own use, 

Not curiously lovely for my thought! 

Ah no, my house shall be that home for all ! 

After, I set me building for all men, 

Homes, homes for such as wander homelessly! 

Now, I shall build world-castles steadfastly! 

God lifts me a pure mirror for my soul ! 

\^The White Woman ties her palfrey to a 
tree. As the evening falls, slowly, they are 
seen working, among the great blocks of 
stone, building up, of the debris of the other 
houses, — a new dwelling. 



[156] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 
Part I 



THE pillar of steel is rent In the land of the 
Lord, 

David hath smitten Goliath. 
He dies by the sling! 

Sing, daughters of men, for I sing. 
I am David, the free. 

I have slung out the stone of my thought, 

I have speeded a tiny swift pebble 

Into the brain of the giant — into the soul of the 
slayer. 

Behold, I come down from the camp in the golden 
sunlight. 

With my hair outflung like a radiant banner, my 
sling at my side. 

Over the desert sand I am swift, I am light. 

For victory rides at my side like a visible host! 

The deep-blue Syrian sky is fulfilment of dreams ! 

I sing to the winds — ah, what is so good as to tri- 
umph and slay. 

Save the excellent beauty of shouting my glory 
abroad ! 

[159] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



II 



I paced along the sand. Goliath's head 

Hung heavily across my shoulders. Blood 

Dripped fearsomely against my wind-spurred feet. 

I dared not turn to see him, for the face 

Was stiffened to the dreadful leer of death 

And frozen to an utter hatefulness 

Most terrible. I stooped for wayside flowers 

And blotted out the gray and snarling thing 

With fragrant blue-tipped petals. But a gleam 

In his old scarred blunt forehead showed the stone, 

The mighty little pebble winged for hell. 

Shining, a jewel in a toad-head. Saul 

Stood at his purple tent like a red sun 

Upon a misty West — so beautiful 

I knelt and hardly dared lift up my spoil ! 



[i6o] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



III 



At the king's shoulder stood a slender boy. 
The moon's white hand caressed his sombre head 
Unheeded — and his tawny soldier brow 
Reared proudly to Imaginary crown. 
Kneeling, I gazed upon him — mountain-boy, 
Fostered on star-flecked dreamful solitude, 
Confronting the hot spirit, Jonathan, 
Prince of red battle ! 

Did two separate stars. 
One, flaming gorgeous in a meteor-course. 
One, fixed and tremulous and silver-bright, 
Meet and melt in triumphantly, two souls 
Fed on each other, there could be no world 
Born of the quiet light and streaming fire 
More wondrous than the friendship born of us ! 



[i6i] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



IV 



How he exulteth In his kingly right 

To honor me ! I live beside him now. 

We walk like brothers very lovingly. 

We sit in Saul's vast midnight-curtained tent 

Telling each other over all our lives — 

And he is Jonathan, the son of Saul, 

And I am only Jesse's shepherd-boy! 

He proudly doffs his birth. If he at all 

Remembers his own kingship, 'tis to load 

Me o'er with gladness like fine vestments. Once 

In a fierce beautiful moment he stripped ofi 

His robe of princeling and would give it me. 

We made eternal covenant. I w^ore 

His sw^ord and battled for the brooding king. 



[162] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



Saul labors with a devil of the will. 

Shaken and bruised and conqueror at last 

He sits within the shadow of his tent. 

We, lightly stepping to the mountain world, 

(Leopard-swift Jonathan, my soul's beloved, 

And I, his servant) pass that majesty 

And whisper frightened like two children, ' Lo, 

The king has killed his devil! Come away! ' 

But the great eyes burn out toward my eyes 

And meet my look like fire. Smouldering there 

Something as red as hate, hell-born, world-grown 

Into the white similitude of love! 

What can the fire mean for me? Despair? 

Or a great fostering gentleness like God? 



[163] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



VI 



Whether he be destruction or new life 

To me, yet is he dear to Jonathan. 

Yet has Saul fathered him and reared him straight, 

Stern, fleet and free — a son of clamoring war. 

So, if my little songs of Bethlehem, 

Star-taught and voiced to patient browsing sheep, 

Soothe the king in those battles of his thought, 

I am well-blessed. I sit beside the door 

Watching the night wheel over me, the world 

Turn in its steadfast orbit, hail the stars 

Silverly mounting thro' infinity! 

I sing and strike the yielding patient harp 

As if it were my soul and Jonathan's. 

Hence this sweet healing melody of peace ! 



[164] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



VII 



We sat upon the purple edge of cliff 
That dips away to eastward languidly 
As tho' it flowed into a yellow sea. 
We sat beneath the toiling golden sun. 
Boy-heartedly we told our prowess, read 
That ever-living saga of young deeds, 
Young dreams and boyish courage. I, intent. 
Stirred to the man-child deeps of me, heard war 
And war that ever swept across his lips 
And lit his face with livid battle-fire. 
' Jonathan and his armor-bearer,' deeds 
Of Israel's daring and Philistine-pride 
Trembled across my simple soul. He sighed, 
* O David, thou canst sing! I only slay! ' 



[ 165 ] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 
VIII 



So close we drew in deed and tenderness 
That lightning-white keen flame of sympathy 
Rent the dull, cloudy absence. 

When he marched 
Beside his father many leagues away 
I caught the sensitive quiver of a thought 
Upon the mirroring waters of his mind. 
The same glad thrill possessed us at the dawn, 
The same quaint awe united us at eve. 
Sunset was a great human glorious death, 
A warrior's passing. As I sang my dreams 
His voice, that lyric golden voice of his 
Would take up the low chanting and his face 
Glow to my joy. Then, in my shepherd heart 
I felt a power stir in me to lead! 



[i66] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



IX 



Therefore, half-pleasing gallant Jonathan, 

Half, mine own tiny sense of valor, I 

Plunged in the mounting war-tide ! Loud and 

free 
And thunderous its waves, its Philistines 
Upon the placid beach of Israel. 
I plunged, and Saul, that wind-beat rock of war 
Beetled above the flood to watch my flight. 
Cold was the wide green water, but I struck 
Boldly. The wind bore out Saul's haughty word, 
* Well-done ! ' I dove. There in the silent halls 
Under the sea of battle, I beheld 
The luminous pearl of glory. 

Saul looked on 
And saw me mounting with the lambent gem 
Ominously. But Jonathan was glad. 



[167] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



X 



My friend had loyally admitted me 
Into his own fierce field of life. I fought 
Godlessly, cruelly, swifter than he, 
Readier, keener, but he stood aside 
In brave and shining friendliness, to love 
My doing of his work, his chosen love. 
O fine and generous, O princely soul, 

perfect friend in all our Israel! 

My lust for killing crowded on my life. 

My songs were dumb, my harp lay, slackly-strung. 

1 saw my friend but rarely. 

Then, at least 
The early David crept to his embrace, 
A lost and songful sheep-boy. Jonathan 
Folded me in his quiet loyalty. 



[i68] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XI 



Saul, in the character of watchfulness, 
Hovered above us, brooded on our way 
Like a great purple-vested storm. I shrank, 
Knowing him fierce and hard to Jonathan, 
Yet jealous of his son's supremacy. 
So, as we stood, we friends before the tent 
In a high moment, when the Philistines 
Slunk off and IsraePs gold-burnished host 
Rolled after like a splendid fallen sun, 
I questioned Jonathan. ^ Have you no fear, 
As I go on and on to victory. 
No jealousy? ' 

* Of you, my chosen soul? ' 
He answered. ' There Is room for two to work 
The same fine conquest. I am not afraid ! ' 



[169] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XII 



If it be hate, then, Saul, I seize the shield, 
I loose my arms — I set my courage up 
On the cliff-brow of bravery. I come, 

Israel's Goliath! I am still 
David to smite thee ! I have fled away 

At Jonathan's prayer. I wait among the wheat, 
To hear the word of exile or release. 
The word of peace or life — enduring war. 
The evening slopes across the mount of time 
Beautifully, all dressed in silver-gray. 

1 wait steadfastly, thinking, will it be 

Life with thee, Jonathan? Or, must I roam 
Unloved and battling? What the word thou 

bringest, 
I can be sure of thee eternally! 



[ 170] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XIII 

The moon stole out, a pallid, lovely thing 
On the clear blue of eastern sky — and lo, 
Young stars came too and sunset stayed awhile 
In rose and golden beauty. 

There I crouched 
Waiting in sorrow till a coming step 
Beat fast like a sick heart along the road. 
Up from the valley-shadow, Jonathan 
Sprang lightly. O, the evening knew his strength, 
The swaying eerie palm-trees hailed his grace ! 
Firm as a panther with his valiant head 
Held resolutely, O my Jonathan, 
So shall I see thee ever in my soul 
Coming on bravely, tho' the word be ill 
Thou hadst the hero-will to bring it me ! 



[171] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XIV 

' Whate'er thou wiliest, David, I will do 
Gladly and passionately, for we twain 
Are brothers dearer than the usual tie 
Can e'er unite ! Here in this moonlit place 
By the great up-tossed rock of Ezel, here 
Where we have roamed together comradewise, 
Swear, David, our old covenant! To-night 
Thou goest. I shall never see thee more. 
Hush, friend, I know it! Go, from Jonathan, 
Straight on to kingship ! Look between my eyes 
With thy fine sword-gray eyes, look to my soul. 
Farewell ! The dawn runs clearer into day, 
The day flows gladlier to meet the night 
Since I have known thee and the love of thee ! ' 



[172] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XV 



Since then my life has lain In terrible pass, 
Since then my steel has leaped beside me, fierce 
And blameless bright. O, I have sunk my woe 
In battle and have learned to feed on tears. 
O, only In privation can we know 
The height and depth of friendship — only so 
When absence lies around like a great plain. 
Limitless, vast, unanswering, and wide. 
Only when nights are like the fearsome road 
We tread to death, only when days are gray 
With a dull splrlt-yearning can we know 
The Infinite dear meaning of a friend ! 

Jonathan, I did not give thee all, 

1 was a laggard and the day Is past! 



[173] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XVI 

Yea, I withheld, withheld — I garnered up 
A silly store of intimacy, sure 
That he would love my coldness. Now I see 
The barrenness of such pretentious care. 
Give, give while yet the desert-ways be gold, 
Give, give and let the twilight find you stripped — 
Give, and the terror of a loss shall find 
You not as destitute as I have been 
With thinking that I can not give all now 
Nor ever shall dispense my niggard wealth ! 
God, now I understand my cruelty 
And hate myself when I remember him 
Waiting, too proud and hurt by my denial 
To cry, ' My friend — give once, give wholly, 
once ! ' 



[174] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 
XVII 



Yet we have made a covenant; we stood 

(Well I remember) toward the morning sky 

And called the ancient God of Israel 

In witness. We are friends. No failure grieved, 

No pitiful aping of his constancy 

Can dim my glory in our fellowship. 

I reverence a certain steadfast light 

High held as by some monumental god, 

Unwavering and clear and silver-hued ! 

That is his loyal spirit. In my wars, 

He rides before my prowess, he, the wind 

Of all my battle. Now what matters pain 

At parting, or the little personal hurt. 

Since I hav^e known a soul so beautiful ! 



[175] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XVIII 

I come from the slaughter of mine enemies, 
Yea, I, David, am come from smiting Amalek, 
Over the dew-gray plain, into the light of the 

morning. 
Out of the sweat and clamor and myriad life of 

the camp ! 
One came running and fell at my knees — and 

his clothes were rent. 
There was dust on his head. 

He cried aloud, saying, 
* Saul and his sons are dead in the battle's midst ! ' 
I shall hear his silly cry thro' my heart, thro' my 

empty heart, 
Till the night falls heavily, hard on my bruised 

head — 
I shall hear him crying, ' Jonathan ' ! 

Jonathan, dead? 
My friend — my fleet and fine — my brother in 

war and my soul — 
Jonathan — dead? But they lay 
Father and sons majestical. 

[176] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 

He of them all turned a calm brow to heaveh. 
O tender friend. 

Jonathan rich in the gold of friendship, perfect 
and steadfast — 

Jonathan, thou hadst that gift in the wishes of all 
men: — 

To be loyal and gentle, yet keenly brave, 

A screaming eagle — with the soul of a soft-eyed 
dove ! 

O I have loved thee, wondrously, passing the love 
of women — 

Brother of mine, my spirit, farewell and fare- 
well — 

Since thou art fallen on the deathly sleep! 



[ 177] 



Part II 

I 

City, I love thy liberal wilderness, 

Thy forests of grave towers, thy great walks 

Swarmed by the human multitude, thy sea 

Engirdling with fair sapphire brilliance 

And anon raging darkly to thy walls! 

Cit}^ my mother of the generous breast, 

I bring my work to lay across thy knees. 

Fit offering of all I had of thee. 

Fit witness to my love. O, Burning Lights, 

Eyes of the city, beam up brave and clear 

To the dark arching azure of the night! 

Answer, ye starry lights of God; shine down 

Sisterly to my city's radiance ! 

Sing, never-muted voices of the street! 



[178] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



II 



Men have pronounced her gaunt and mercantile, 
Men have reviled her stony-cinctured shore, 
Have sneered because the pain of wickedness 
Has made her gray and sorrowful. I see 
In these great buildings an aspiring dream 
Far other than the ugly trade they see. 
I hail thee, lily-tower, fair and free, 
Purest of stone-things, pointing over all, 
Over the grime and rush and soddenness. 
Over the music and the joyousness, 
Over the endless mother-city's song, 
Up, free and fair and godly, lily-tower. 
Thou art the city's meaning, that high soul 
Transcending her own swift material life! 



[179] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



III 



We clasped strong hands across the city's din, 

And thus, secure in wise companionship, 

Went down to meet all laborers. A cry 

Rose from the gold-lit streets, a hurrying shout, 

A melody with over-tones of joy 

And fearsome harmony of squalor. Here, 

White houses rose for homes of elegant thought, 

Wherefrom swift fragrant women passed like 

dreams — 
There, close beside, a wretched beggar-thing 
Reached out a shameless hand for alms-taking. 
Exulting in the black disease he bore. 
Below, a tangled undergrowth of life 
Belted by shining river. Over all 
One gleaming tower aspired like a song! 



[i8o] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



IV 



No likeness of the senses held us close, 

No strange inweaving of our aim and thought 

(Tho' these were kin) united us. No band 

Of common Interest and common cause 

Knit us. But when I raised a weary head 

From labor that had drained my manhood force 

I met two grave and acquiescent eyes, 

I saw a soul that looked me to my soul, 

A life that sped to meet me hardily! 

Then there was born between us a strange power, 

A secret, lovely tenderness, a strength 

Nourished and lifted In our Inmost life 

To white divinity — so that I knew 

His spirit, as he knew mine. Instantly! 



[i8i] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



Ah days of giant hardihood, ah nights 

Of lyric worship at the city's feet! 

We saw her as the woman deified, 

The great deep-bosomed mother, azure-robed, 

With eyes as wide as Time, with gentle hands 

Like petal-laden winds soft from the South, 

With such capacity and soul for woe 

That she can take men's suffering and transmute 

It by a hidden alchemy of love 

Into a lambent golden sympathy! 

Great Mother, so we came to thee, two lives 

As young as new-born stars, but radiant 

With a sun-glory, so we came to thee: 

Look down and see how dim we smoulder now I 



[182] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



VI 



He had a splendid bravery of thought; 

His mind blazed toward a thousand daring acts, 

Meteor-swift, serenely strong! His dreams 

Leaped into action at the phantom-gate, 

Nor lingered wanly to resolve away 

Into remembered loveliness. Withal, 

He went about a swarm of little things 

Simply and uncomplaining. I have seen 

Anger beat at his temples, darken o'er 

His sensitive features and then fade away 

Into beseeching pardon for his wrong. 

He never paltered with the silly words 

That damn us, but went on quite unafraid 

Thro' failure and fulfilment to belief! 



[183] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



VII 



What was his visible semblance? Ah, he bore 
A proud head like a nature crowned king, 
Steady, unwavering eyes and quiet hands, 
Gentle to sorrowing women, to us all 
Firm, warm and friendly. 

In his resolute lips 
Pride threatened that the steel cold look confirmed 
And the quick smile defeated utterly! 
His laughter was a battle-shout to pain. 
I have seen little beams of tenderness 
Play full upon the granite of his will 
To glorify that hard profundity, 
Gained in long warfare. 

He was beautiful, 
Because his kindliness beamed manifest. 
Because his soul shone frankly thro' his eyes. 



[184] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



VIII 

Yet I have seen that comrade quietude 
Break up before a devil of distrust. 
A little creeping shadow would come down, 
Down from his open forehead to his eyes 
Where shade would spread such fatal evil cold 
That the dear silver light went out and dark 
Gathered as ominous as tempest. Down, 
The sorrowful curtain would fall steadily, 
Contorting into grimness the firm mouth. 
Blotting the whole still face. 

Then I have dreamed, 
Staring In terror: Is this man my friend? 
Rather he crouches like a cruel Sphinx, 
A phantom frozen into bloodless stone. 
Passive and cold — a horrible nullity! 



[185] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 

IX 

use and might of friendship! 

At my work 

1 delve within the secret darkened mines 
Of civic justice. I hew rock away, 
Fling filth aside and let down heaven's air 
Till all the brothers working in the night 
Lift thankful, grimy faces and rejoice ! 
That, my great victory — but, oftentime 
When the foul stench of evil chokes my soul. 
When ghastly creatures roll beneath my feet, 
Ribald and dirt-cloaked, or obscurely bare, 
Such horrible disgust wells up in me 

Like burning tears, that I would leave the whole 
And live upon the earth-top in the Sun 
Till my mind warns — ' Could you be then his 
friend?' 



[i86] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



X 



Then often in those young days we were glad 

To name ourselves the lads of Israel, 

David and Jonathan. We set their love 

Aloft to be the image of our love. 

We swore the covenant of loyalty, 

Like them. Like them, we went about our lives 

Each singing one dear name. 

In summer's green 
We sat beside a dreamy mountain-stream 
That offered candid bosom to the wind. 
We read aloud in the memorial Book 
Of old hot deeds and conquests, — Sang aloud 
That song of death, ' How are the mighty 

fallen!' 
I looked up with an inward sobbing breath 
And saw death's meaning staring in his eyes! 



[187] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XI 



He pondered, ' How could Jonathan be glad, 
When David left his singing for the bow? 
That was his brother's work. Had he the right 
To flame off into war, to forge ahead 
Snatching the glory from prince Jonathan? 
Had he the kingly right, he, shepherd boy? 
Who knows but Jonathan had led them all 
But for usurping David?' I laughed loud, 
' Come to my work, my David. Take my place ! 
Stride in with me to war on foolish sin 
That for a little knowledge might be good! 
Come, lead the city's men! ' His look to mine. 
Startled and bright with eager wishfulness 
Made answer, ' Can you prove the test? I 
come ! ' 



[i88] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XII 



So we stepped down Into a common life 

Happily. O, the joy to work with him, 

To watch the running courage of his mind, 

To see him seize the weapon of his war, 

Brandish the javelin of fearlessness, 

Take up the little powerful sling of thought, 

And like dear David fell Goliath. Ah, 

The inspiration of his certainty. 

He knew no instant's questioning. No doubt 

As to our ultimate truth and victory 

Ran wantonly across his quiet brain 

Or played the restless madman with his faith. 

Ah, no, he fixed his gaze and kept It high, 

Admitting no small failure by the way! 



[189] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XIII 

Sometimes across the mystery of pain 

Unanswerable, meaningless and drear 

That swirled around me in the darkness, cries 

Broke from me. They were like the panic-calls 

Of a stout diver in the blue unknown. 

Wandering lost i' the forest of thick weed, 

Shaking his cable helplessly. O God, 

The awful deeps, the powerful thick sea ! 

Light, O my God, white light! But when the 

dark 
Seemed most unutterably hideous 
A clear voice reached me, gliding thro' the sea. 
Like a chaste golden sunbeam ! Some quick sense 
Stirred in me dumbly. I was not alone, 
A brother diver clove the chilly waves ! 



[ 190] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XIV 

O send me some tremendous stirring time, 
Some passage of a fleet and dangerous tide, 
A swift pursuit across the city's hell, 
A gruesome sickness to be comforted, 
A life for his own life — that I may prove 
The deep exultant friendship and the pride. 
That bloom in me ! O let me pluck the flower 
Off now, a perfect glowing, crimson thing. 
And offer it, my wish in every leaf. 
My being in the fragrance, in the thorns 
My pain and straining eagerness — Ah, friend. 
Lean down and gather up the petal-wealth. 
Touch it to fullest beauty ere the frost 
Creep in and nip away this loveliness ! 



[191] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XV 



Two titan chimneys barred the early sky. 
The long gray smoke sped upward, very slow 
And beautifully soft. The city stirred 
Under the coming sun. The hush of night 
Grew into a low murmurous refrain, 
Then to a song, then to a shout! The river 
Took on a silver life and movement. Sun 
Climbed laboring from cloudy banks of dream, 
Climbed ever to the open blue. The red 
Glowing behind the spires burst into gold 
And all the heavens were flooded! Mother-city 
Flung wide her generous arms to take the throng 
Of eager morning workers — It was day ! 
* Forward, O city ! ' cried my watching soul 1 



[192] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XVI 

He stood beside me in that ecstasy, 
Marked, shared and measured my deep happiness. 
Then, sudden, with that sudden lift of strength 
Wherewith the sun heaves off his weight of clouds 
And spurns the night behind him, I flung off 
A cloaking blindness. I beheld my friend 
Rapt, in the worship of my city-mother. 
His brow was stamped with undeniable love, 
His look flamed with a strange desire to save, 
And cure. Ah, I could see his stalwart hands 
Grope for the fierce delight of human work. 
A sick unrest — a movement in my heart! 
Can Jonathan be David's grudging friend? 
Can it be jealousy? O God, the test! 



[193] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XVII 

I watched the little venom spread in me 
Curiously as some old surgeon. Cool, 
I stood beside myself and saw the flow 
Of black and noxious poison in my veins. 
I peered out on my friend's real business 
Cravenly, plucking at my withered lips, 
Plucking and peering. Is he loved as I 
Am loved? And do these children seek his knee 
Out of the filth like lilies from the muck 
As they seek mine? His work, is it as good 
As mine? It is. He works like God and I 
Have lost the genius. He has stolen it. 
Then startled by some crash within my life, 
I turn, I see. Can this thing be myself? 



[ 194] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XVIII 

No, help me, mother, to put far from me 

A sin so petty and so miserable, 

So far below the stature of my soul. 

So damning! Let me loose the clinging hands, 

Kill this superb resentment at its birth. 

Blot out the jealous pride that pains to see 

My friend come share my work and love it too. 

This cannot be. There must be some mistake. 

Some unseen warping of my spirit's beam. 

I cannot have this devil in myself. 

Free me, O free me ! I am Jonathan. 

David must war with me. And quick I looked. 

He went out straightway to his work, my work. 

The poor came up to meet him. I know hate! 



[195] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XIX 

The world goes out to seek frivolity. 
The avenue is like a fairy realm 
For delicate costume and sweet trailing lace. 
Ladies are blooming rose-like all along 
The gray stone coping. In cathedral-shade, 
Under the solemn spire, see, how they wait 
Quite unafraid! David and Jonathan, 
(What bitter mockery to seeing eyes!) 
Walk speciously, as fellows, arm in arm. 
Into the park I draw him, to the peace 
Of autumn-painted forest and firm sward. 
A question sneers upon my lips, ' You love 
Me or the work I do? The man, I say. 
Or that pure golden halo of his deeds? • 



[196] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 
XX 



David, David, I have killed your faith, 
Have murdered the white love you held for me! 
His quiet, searching eyes, his noble head. 
Lifted, but stricken midway in its pride 

By my despairing coward-words; his soul 
Leaping up like fierce flame to scorch the lies 
That writhed upon my lips — O, that white face. 
My David, O my friend, my brother-soul, 

1 shall remember your majestic pain 

In hell ; — in torment, I shall see your woe ! 

The breaking thunder of your ruined faith 

Shall crash around me in the pit of flame. 

I am accursed. Can there be any pain 

Like failure? Can there be a woe like wrong? 



[ 197] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XXI 

The faulty, carping friendship that discerns 

Flaws in the diamond of such obscure 

And menaceful purport as to dim the whole, 

Cloud-brilliancy and fire and purity, 

That friendship is a name for enmity ! 

I had discovered a fair shining gem. 

An opal, in whose Iridescent heart 

All hues of beauty, conduct and of mind 

Blent and gave out a thousand delicate rays 

Of moon-beam splendor! But I held it here. 

There, In that burning sunlight, jealously 

Till I revealed a black Imagined flaw. 

O friend, O many-natured, perfect friend. 

The flaw Is In my sight, is In my soul ! 



[198] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XXII 

But it has grown too fearful deep in me 
To let me see again as once I saw 
Thy violet quiet and thy crimson pride, 
Thy sapphire constancy and crystal truth, 

thou, my lost great jewel! Since I wrought 
Into thee mine own spirit's ugliness. 
Attributing thee what m^y life abhors, 
Staining thy beauty with my jealousy, 

1 have so wronged thee that I can not beg 
To carry thee upon my bosom ! No, 
Such misconception is the curse of love, 
The blight, the everlasting death of faith. 
No, out with me to a great loneliness 

To read my curse and know it false — ah false ! 



[199] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XXIII 

It Is so very long, so very long 
Since I have heard the singing of a life 
Attuned to mine ! The days since my soul died 
Have spun their dreary filaments to years 
And still I drag this corpse-thing at my heels. 
Where can I fling regret? 

Into the sea? 
Lo, it will rise like scum upon the foam. 
Into the air? Nay, I should hear it wail 
Loud at my ears in every moaning wind! 
Into the flaming beautiful waves of hell? 
Nay, some ingenious winged imp would rise 
Bearing it gallantly to offer up • 

Like riches at my prayer! 

Almighty God, 
It is so very long since I have lived! 



[ 200 ] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XXIV 

Emptiness — where his look spoke lovingly — 

Lonely and fearful, where his step was free — 

Filthy, the work he touched to glorify 

With gentle passion for renunciation. 

O how the darkness yawns behind a friend 

When he has passed! O how the distance rings 

With his own voice — when wind has borne away 

The dear reality! O self-belief 

Is like a hideous jest of circumstance 

When we have failed — failed utterly and fallen 

Before the test of friendship. 

He was pure 
And vital and believing and devout, 
In all that touched me nearest to myself, 
Gifted with rare capacity to love — 
And I have lost him, lost him, to all time ! 



[20I] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XXV 

Now I can see my utter selfishness. 

Unnaturally well I look behind 

And mark the foolish way my spirit came 

And know the hardness of my asking all, 

All, to the utmost — and then giving, what? 

A careless wish that he would share my work. 

And when he came, this cruel jealousy. 

Write them up unrelentingly, my brain ! 

Write up my accusation! Add the truth, 

That there is room for many in one work, 

That friends must share, in all sincerity. 

The uplift and the lowest agony, 

White morn and sombre night and common work. 

Write up my accusation, ah my brain ! 



[ 202 ] 



JONATHAN AND DAVID 



XXVI 

Come down Into the city, haggard thing, 
Crowned with the crown of falkire, regal-robed 
In shrinking cowardice ! 

Come down, come down. 
Thou art not David, nay, nor Jonathan, 
Nor even a rapt dreamer. Thou art man, 
Needful of business to fill thy hands, 
Wishful for other's woe to crowd thy loss 
Out of a bursting heart. Come down and teach 
All men to meet the scourge of sympathy 
Withdrawn — to know the healing awful sting 
Of failure's whip. Come, build up happiness 
For other children of a like distress ! 
Leave thine own sorrow! In thy strife for all, 
David shall come to Jonathan — his friend! 



[203] 



OTHER POEMS 



BERTRAND TO TIPHAINE 



r\ MUCH-DESIRED, thro' the willow's 
^^ glooming 

I stray. I come upon the moon's first blooming 
Into a fragrant pearl and flower of light! 
Thro' the vague hush and tenderness of night 
I come, O Much-Desired! 

O Delicate-Fingered, has the Woman Dawn 
Taught thee her own swift touch on silvern lawn 
And laggard stream and silent mountain-peak. 
That on my brow and lips and blanching cheek 
Thy fingers stray like light to make me speak 
My soul, O Much-Desired! 

O Much-Desired, as the twilight draws 
Her tranquil cloudy reticence, and awes 
To peace the joy of ruddy Lover-Sun 
And maiden Earth, their passion-struggle done, 
So thine own silence veils the pulsing heart, 
[207] 



BERTRAND TO TIPHAINE 

The exquisite strain of mouth and mouth apart, 

Till in that silence I can hear thy soul ! 

Love me — and leave thy world, thy heaven, the 

whole ; 
Love me, O Much-Desired! 

O Much-Desired, thro' the ways of time 
Pale lovers shall be singing pitiful rhyme 
Beneath thy darkened window. And again. 
Drawn powerfully to the world of men 
Thy beautiful limbs shall die a thousand deaths. 
Thy tender body draw hard human breaths. 
Forever and forever, Much-Desired! 
Till, by the flame of ecstasy new-fired. 
Thou, thou shalt love! 

O thou shalt yearn and die 
The last great death of love-denial ! I 
Proclaim there is no worship but to give 
All ! — in one impulse, hope and dream and live 
As now, O Much-Desired ! 



[208] 



MOON-MAGIC 

I 

'np^HE land of roofs beneath my window-ledge 

-*" Reaches away, a mountain-range to fancy 
With chimney-peaks and gutter-precipice. 
That steeple is a soaring pinnacle, 
Snow-capped by moon-light. All the bells have 

ceased 
Their murmurous dialogue with eventide, 
While I, with all the mystery of night 
Dream here, an isolate and thinking thing 
In the great All of sleep. Ah, silver moon 
I feel thy presence. Thy long finger-tips 
Point delicately to some curious word 
Writ here and undiscovered by mankind. 
I cannot see thee. Unrevealed thou walkest 
The serene distance. Only thy white hands 
Reach down to earth. Just so a woman stands 
Lovely and unrevealed beside her lover, 
Save that her shining, slender fingers point 
Down to some profound writing In his soul ! 
[209] 



MOON-MAGIC 

II 

Mont Saint Michel 

A city built of moon-beam, white and tall, 

Soaring from silver. Into silverness. 

Around that deep moon-bound passivity 

The quiet sands, the wide and generous sands 

Lapped in smooth light lie gray and midnight 

black 
Or showing tender rosy colors, gold 
And sapphire — that's the moon's strange witch' 

ery! 

While far beyond it all, the sea draws off 
A waiting power — silver too, I know. 
And deep and very patient. 

The high city 
Climbs up and up — sheer buttressed marvel- 
walls. 
White cloister cut like jewels from the stone 
To flower-shape; a leaping, soaring spire 

[2IO] 



MOON'MAGIG 

Streams God-ward with the gold of Michael's 

wing 
To cleave the clouds between, to pierce the dark I 

Thou moon-built city, soar up, soar and reach 
Thy strange white Mother of the sky — and live 
Beside thy brother-stars, for thou, like them. 
Art silver in a boundless silyerness 
And isolate and beautiful and cold! 



[211] 



BY A LOCH-SIDE — To Iris 

A CROSS your mind's sweet maiden-mirror, 
^ ^ mirth 

And elfin witchery and wanton glee 
Flicker and sweep as this glad sea-ward breeze 
Changes the sensitive waters of the loch! 

As the reeds sway, the emerald, rose-stemmed 

reeds 
Together in one wide exultant sweep, 
So your sweet, slender body in the dance 
Sways to the changeful music of your thought. 

White gulls, pale-winged phantoms of the sea. 
Flee landward and float wanly on the loch 
Pure as awed thoughts of God — so, on your soul 
Dreams fold their strong white wings and lie at 
rest! 



[212] 



VISION 

T LAY In Immutable silence. 

"^ I lay like a rock In the mid-sea. 

The little blue waves of the hours 

Washed up and beat at my spirit. 

The delicate foam of the minutes 

Smote on my agonized eyelids. 

The tapestry swayed on the wainscot, 

Moonlight stole over my being, 

A bird be-stlrred, lovingly, calling 

To her mate, ' I am here and I love you.' 

But I lay In Immutable silence. 

Isolate, ' lone among sleepers.' 

Something beat hard at my senses, 
A haunted and wandering Impulse 
Begged at my soul for admittance. 
I sprang from my couch In the silence. 
So still was the world that my footsteps 
Smote like the heart-beats of terror! 
[213] 



VISION 

One slender finger of moonbeam 
Pointed me to a fair mirror; 
Silver it hung on the wainscot, 
Reflecting the stars and the midnight. 
I gazed. All the tawdry resemblance, 
The pale fleshly self of me withered. 
The visible evident creature 
Drew off like a flimsy, rent curtain — 
And I saw ! I saw as God sees ! 

Two burning eyes and a forehead 
Where agony wrote and where loving 
Writes, thro' the haze and the ardor 
Of a fire-keen soul, blazing upward! 

Then, suddenly, in the wide darkness, 
A door clanged, the door of a prison. 
Night blotted the face — but I waited 
Waited. The waves of the hours. 
The drear gray waves of the hours, 
Fell on the rock of my spirit 
Sullenly, terribly, grimly! 



[214] 



VISION 

I waited — then blinding, swift lightning 
Darted and lit up the mirror — 
Another forehead, sin-blackened, 
Dull eyes with a lecherous fire, 
Bloat lips with the twitch of disease. 
Grim cheeks with the furrows of tears; 
And a sulphurous fire streamed dimly! 

As day flushes eagerly eastward, 
Behind the pale clouds of the morning. 
Changing them, brightening, making 
Of the night's ragged soldiers of darkness 
Cloud-angels, pure-winged and soaring. 
So the Thing changed, exalted before me. 
The low forehead cleared, and ennobled, 
The eyes burned with fire exultant. 
I saw there the glory of knowledge. 
Strong heart for the bearing of burdens, 
A soul like a paean of courage — 
The God-like attainment of power. 

Then, silence — the waves of the hours 
Washing, washing like tears. 

[2IS] 



VISION 

In the white beauty of moonlight 
My three selves gazed at each other, 
Gazed and confronted and vanished! 



[216] 



DUALITY 

nr^HERE are two natures in all womankind; 

-"- One made to be beloved, one to love. 
Happiest some may say, she who is loved 
To the great top-most frenzy of a life. 
That draws a magic circle round her soul 
Protective from all evil. She it Is 
Accepts the homage haughtily, her due — 
Who laughs at spirit-union, yet, God knows, 
Has blessedness beyond the reach of death. 
She who holds love, knows power! 

We who love. 
Fling all our souls before the eidolon 
Of some ideal born within our hearts. 
We who know agony of loneliness. 
Who tread the v/ays of desolation, cry 
Thro' the thick darkness for one human touch, 
One small sweet tenderness, some slight return — 
Who, after all, know ecstasy as great 
As rushing winds, live in a close-pent hour 
Fierce centuries of conflict — are we not 
The burning prophets of eternity! 

[217] 



DEC 18 1913 



PRAYER — FOR ALL BOYS 

TX7RITE thou the word of courage in their 
^ ^ hearts, 

Thou who didst give no groan at Calvary 
Till flesh broke in the great release of death! 
Put strength like a firm mail upon their backs, 
Give them fine open eyes for all the world, 
A shining eager honesty, a truth 
Daring and unashamed — a loyalty 
To comrades and to little helpless things! 
Indulge their thorny swaggering wickedness, 
(So innocently boasted) ah, forgive 
Chance cruelty in play, O Thou who played 
Upon the quiet streets of Nazareth! 
Let them, in all their manhood, be no whit 
Less candid than in boyhood and, in death. 
Give them to go on, singing ' victory ' ! 



[218] 



